


Comedy of Illusions

by ladyshadowdrake



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Action, Dog Tags, First Time, Fluff, Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, Oral Sex, early 616 updated for modern times, random weird badguy, tiny red thong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: Thinking that he's been caught out, Tony confesses that he's Iron Man - at least that's what he thinks he's doing. Steve hears something very different. Date night, sexy-fun times, and a jumble of errors as Tony tries to fix his mistake results, all compounded by a mysterious enemy who's been hacking into SI servers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelslk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelslk/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Art for "Comedy of Illusions"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067447) by [kelslk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelslk/pseuds/kelslk). 



> For the 2017 Cap-Iron Man RBB, in collaboration with the phenomenal amazing wonderful Kelslk! 
> 
> Go look at the arts here: http://kelslk-art.tumblr.com/post/161330367914/my-first-of-two-art-contributions-for-the
> 
> Undying gratitude to Arukou for betaing on short notice.

Tony put a hand over his face. “How is this possible? And why didn’t anyone choose to tell me about this until today?” He set his hand down and looked up at his head of R&D. Levy McMillion was brilliant and had an impressive resume, and looked like he belonged on a battlefield with a broadsword rather than in the lab coat he had to order custom to fit his barrel chest. He stood with his spine ramrod straight to take advantage of all 6’2” of his bulky height, a manila folder held in front of him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” McMillion said. “Security didn’t catch the breach until some of the files had already been stolen. We’ve been trying to recover the information.”

“I should have been informed _immediately_ ,” Tony stressed, not intimidated in the least. After saving the planet from certain destruction a time or twelve, a misplaced highlander in a lab coat barely blipped his radar. Plus, he liked Levy, and Levy was probably as angry about the security breach as Tony. He wouldn’t want to be in the R&D department come tomorrow morning.

“I know, sir,” Levy said. His shoulders slumped. “I was hoping to be able to contain the issue and report that it had been resolved.”

Tony pushed his hair back and tried to keep his temper. Someone had broken into his systems and stolen his technology, and even if it was only half the plans for an updated battery, someone had broken through _his_ firewall to get it. Tony took a slow breath and gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Take seat. Tell me what we’ve lost.”

~*~

Tony resisted the urge to knock. The mansion was, ostensibly, his home, and he could come and go as he pleased. He’d been assured by a very earnest Captain America on many occasions that of course he was welcome in the mansion. It was his generosity that had given the Avengers a home and paid their salaries, and his work that kept them all in gear. Or so Steve had said while Tony had just stared at him, bemused and waiting for the punch line. The reality of it was that Steve was just that good of a person, and he wasn’t going to hold Tony’s past against him. If anything, Steve’s blanket forgiveness had just made Tony feel more awkward at the mansion without the Iron Man armor.

Shouldering the door open, Tony shuffled in. He stifled a yawn behind one hand and tugged at his tie. His suit was rumpled and he felt like he’d grown a second skin in grime. Something about being in the shark-eat-shark board room always made him feel dirtier than a day locked up in the Iron Man suit duking it out with the bad guy of the week. He nudged the door closed with his hip and about jumped out of his skin when Jarvis appeared around the corner.

“Good morning, sir,” Jarvis greeted, pretending not to notice that Tony had leapt a foot in the air and jerked his hand out as if he had a repulsor to fight with.

Tony let his hand drop, thankful that that maneuver to fire repulsors in the suit just looked like “ _stop!”_ without it. He forced the corner of his lips up in a smile and shoved his hand into his pocket. He needed to find some way to unwind – he was on a hair trigger, and one day it was going to get someone killed. Or just give away his secret. Jarvis would never say anything if he ever did come suspect that Tony was his own bodyguard, but if he did something like that in front of someone like Clint, he might have a problem on his hands.

“Sorry, Jarvis. Guess I’m a little out of it,” Tony said, losing the last of it in another yawn. He gave Jarvis a rueful look, but Jarvis was not fazed by either the almost-attack, or Tony’s open-mouthed apology. It was almost two in the morning, but Jarvis was as impeccable as ever, even in a dressing robe over pinstriped pajamas.

Jarvis stepped forward to take Tony’s suit jacket from where it was draped haphazardly over his arm and shook it out. He hiked an eyebrow at the rest of Tony’s rumpled clothing and said, “I’ll just add to this dry-cleaning, then. If you’ll leave the rest in the chair, I can take it out tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Tony said, but was too tired to even manage a contrite look. He waved vaguely and excused himself up the stairs.

When the Avengers had first moved into the mansion, they’d practically tip-toed around the décor, and Tony had thought Steve was going to melt into a puddle of agony the first time something broke. He’d brought Tony the pieces of a blue and white ceramic vase, still damp and smelling like flower-water with his head hanging, swearing up and down that he’d find a way to replace what was surely a priceless heirloom.

Tony shouldn’t have laughed, but it was hard not to. He’d just nudged a trashcan over and explained, “I broke the original when I was five. And the next three replicas that Jarvis brought home. Nothing out in the house is something you have to worry about – anything genuinely _priceless_ was moved to storage ages ago.”

He hadn’t mentioned that Dad had tanned his hide so hard that he hadn’t been able to sit down for days, but Steve didn’t need any more reasons to think he was pitiful. Eventually even _his_ wells of forgiveness and grace would have exhausted themselves on Tony if given half a chance.

Tony stopped at the hall table and let his fingers drift over the surface of the vase. Despite Tony telling him three times to just drop it in the trash, Steve had repaired the vase himself, sealing the cracks with golden solder and painstakingly repainting any bits of the design he hadn’t been able to retrieve from the carpet. Even though the vase itself had probably only cost a few dollars at an antique store, the final product _was_ priceless. Steve had even signed the bottom at Tony’s insistence, and though Tony wanted to hide it away somewhere safe, he kept it right outside his bedroom door. Jarvis had gone around to each of the Avengers – including Iron Man – and made sure, in his subtle way, that they understood how much trouble they would be in if the vase was broken again. Even Tony had been intimidated by the threat, but then again, he knew Jarvis better than anyone and understood how devious he could be.

Just about every other breakable thing in the house had been smashed, dropped, shattered, or chipped since, but the vase was carefully protected and always full of flowers. It was a stupid thing to be so sentimental over, but sometimes the sight of it was the only highlight of his day. Tony brushed a finger over the soft petal of a white carnation and finally trudged to his room.

He did manage to get his pants more-or-less to the chair, but the rest of his clothes ended up in heaps on the floor, and he fell asleep still in his socks, garters and all.

~*~

The sun was creeping steadily toward its zenith when Tony finally crawled out of the pit of inviting comfort that his bed had become and shambled downstairs.

“I see someone had a wild night,” Clint said, nudging Tony as they crossed paths at the kitchen door.

Feeling practically glutted on sleep and fatally low on caffeine, Tony couldn’t get enough brain cells to fire to respond. He managed a grunt and an annoyed swipe at Clint’s face. Holding a sandwich in one hand and glass of milk in the other, Clint dodged the attack, but lost a large slice of bologna in the process. It landed on the wood floor with a sick _swap_ and sat there in a puddle of mayonnaise, looking especially sad under the bright lights.

“Bologna, no,” Clint mourned, and gave Tony a look of such sincere grief that Tony almost apologized.

“I assume you’re going to pick that up, Clint?” Steve called from the kitchen. “I told you that you should have just eaten at the table.”

Clint flinched and glowered over his shoulder. “Yeah-yeah, Mom,” Clint grumbled, but stuffed the rest of his sandwich awkwardly into his mouth so he could lean over and peel the bologna off the floor, leaving a greasy smear of mayo behind. He eyed it speculatively.

Tony gagged. “If you put that in your mouth, I _will_ throw up all over you,” he warned.

Complaining through his sandwich, Clint took the fallen bologna to the trash and set his glass on the counter so he could grab a paper towel.

Tony stepped over the mess of the mayonnaise into the kitchen. Steve was standing at the counter in a pair of jogging shorts and a t-shirt that was probably a small, Christ was he _trying_ to give to Tony a heart attack? Luckily the lack of caffeine dulled his reaction times enough to process thoughts before he word-spat something stupid like, _“So do you work out?”_

“Good afternoon, Mr. Stark,” Steve greeted with a bright smile. He had the kitchen island covered in slices of that hearty bread he liked that was filled with nuts and dried berries, and was spreading mayo over every other slice. When Clint returned to give him puppy-dog eyes, Steve casually flipped one piece of bread over the sole pile of bologna and handed it over to him. Clint blew him a kiss and promptly stuffed it into his mouth, snagging his half-eaten one on the way out.

Steve twisted to look at Tony over his shoulder. “Can I make you a sandwich?”

Tony grunted what was supposed to mean _no, I subsist on coffee and contrariness alone,_ but Steve apparently decided to translate it to, _sure, I’d just love a sandwich first thing after tumbling out of bed!_ He abandoned his jar of mayonnaise and opened a bag of sliced roast beef. It was too much effort to correct him, and there was something kind of Boyhood Dream about Captain America making him a sandwich. He didn’t get to eat with the team when he was in the Iron Man suit, and he could tell it was something that bothered Steve – he liked feeding people, and Tony’s protein shakes and smoothies apparently didn’t satisfy his ingrained need to mother his teammates, because he always looked a little forlorn when Iron Man stood in the corner of the dining room and sucked on a shake instead of joining the team for pizza and hot wings.

Fishing out a mug, Tony prodded hopefully at the machine. He was both surprised and nearly overwhelmed with joy to find that there was still at least a cup sloshing around in the pot and he wouldn’t have to wait for it to brew. It was even warm, which meant someone had made a pot in the last hour. He poured the cup and took a healthy swallow even as he reached blindly into the cupboard for the sugar. It was bitter, slight burnt, and honestly awful – like army coffee, or cop coffee – but it was also manna from the gods, filled with beautiful caffeine.

“How was the board meeting?” Steve asked as he layered thick slices of cheddar. He turned again so he could see Tony over his shoulder. “It was almost two by the time you got in last night.”

Brain just starting to stir in anticipation of the caffeine, Tony was awake enough to wonder at Steve keeping track of his schedule, but not quite awake enough to puzzle out why it was odd. He managed a shrug and finally got his hand around the sugar.

“The board meeting was fine – boring, the usual. I was in R&D for most of the night. One of our projects has had… a setback. Which no one told me about until yesterday. It’s not like it’s my company and I’m ultimately responsible for meeting deadlines or anything,” Tony added with a low snarl of annoyance. He shut his mouth too late and cleared his throat. “We managed it to get it back on track,” he finished lamely, which wasn’t the complete truth; even he couldn’t recreate two months of stolen research in one night, but it was closer to being back on track than it had been the day before.

He didn’t talk to Steve – or any of the Avengers – about SI. It was hard enough to keep his two identities straight on the best days, but slipping into the familiar, friendly banter that Iron Man had with Steve was dangerous. It would be too easy to slip up and say something to Steve that Tony shouldn’t know. Or for that matter, something that _Iron Man_ shouldn’t know. At best, Steve would assume that Iron Man had been telling his boss personal things and feel betrayed. At worst, it would be the end of years of careful identity management. It was why he’d done his best for so long to stay out of the mansion and out from under the Avengers’ feet, but ultimately trying to maintain two residences and appear to be at both all the time had been too much, and he’d had to compromise somewhere. The less Tony Stark interacted with them, the more Iron Man could interact with them, and some days escaping into the suit and having friends was all that kept him sane.

“What’s the project?” Steve asked politely. He loaded a handful of lettuce onto the sandwich and liberally scattered cracked pepper over the mustard-covered top slice of bread. Tony stared at it, wondering when he’d told Steve that he liked pepper on his sandwiches, or if Steve had just made a lucky guess, or just _noticed_ , and that could be an issue. Tony wasn’t supposed to be around enough for Steve to notice things about him. Had he ever mentioned that he liked pepper as Iron Man? Would that be enough to make the connection – similar tastes in sandwich dressings?

“Mr. Stark?” Steve prompted.

Tony jolted out of his panicky spiral and belatedly poured sugar into his cup. “Sorry, was daydreaming. What?”

“The project,” Steve repeated. He pressed the top slice onto the sandwich and cut it into two triangles. “What are you working on? If it’s not a corporate secret or something.”

“Not a secret,” Tony said. _Not from you_ , he meant. He swirled his finger through the coffee to stir it, and bore Steve’s withering glance at the silverware drawer two feet away with remarkable aplomb, all things considered. He took a sip of his now too-sweet coffee and put on an innocent expression as he sucked the moisture off his index finger. “Just a battery upgrade for the next StarkPhone.”

“You can’t just give them all tiny arc reactors?” Steve teased. He slid the sandwich onto a plate, but didn’t immediately hand it over. He selected a shiny apple out of the fruit basket hanging from the ceiling and ran his knife under the faucet to clean off bread crumbs and mayo.

Tony rarely ate so soon after waking up, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Steve to stop adding food to the plate. He just leaned back against the counter and blurted out, “There’s a benefit.”

Piling the apple slices on the plate, Steve twisted to give him an inquisitively raised eyebrow, knife poised over the cutting board.

Right. Mind-reading was not one of Captain America’s many talents. “For the Maria Stark Foundation,” Tony clarified, trying to at least pretend that he was an adult who asked people out on dates all the time, and _what the hell was he doing?_ He was supposed to be interacting with Steve _less_ not asking him out on a date. Tony’s mouth kept rattling along while his brain quietly panicked, “Proceeds go to an inner-city arts program that the Foundation sponsors. It’s next Friday. I thought you might like to go?” _with me_ hung damningly in the air.

“That sounds great,” Steve agreed readily. “Although I don’t know if I’m the best candidate. I’m not much for gladhanding these days, and Jan might make a more impressive figure for that kind of thing. She’s better at… well, just about everything than me.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly and shook a handful of potato chips onto the plate.

Tony didn’t know if he should be grateful or not that Steve had misunderstood. He thought that Tony needed an Avenger to make a PR appearance for the pulling power.

“I wouldn’t say she’s better at _everything_ ,” Tony said, managing to summon up a teasing tone of his own. He reluctantly set his coffee down so he could accept the plate, and shifted his weight against the counter. “Iron Man has the night off,” he continued once Steve had gone back to assembling his small mountain of sandwiches. “It would be nice to have a friendly face in the crowd. You don’t even have to come in uniform. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. Just a night of fun and overpriced hor d’oeuvres. Some of the kids will be there to play music.”

Steve gave him a brilliant smile, and said, “How can I resist overpriced hor d’oeuvres and live music?”

Tony knew that Steve hadn’t really just agreed to a date, but it still sent a zing of excited energy through his limbs, and he returned the smile with interest. Thanking Steve for the sandwich, he retreated from the room before he could do anything even more idiotic than inviting his alter ego’s best friend out for a fancy dinner.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, scooping up half of the sandwich and taking a bite right out of the center just for the effect. He could feel streaks of mustard and mayonnaise on his cheeks, but ignored them and dropped the sandwich back to the plate in exchange for a potato chip.

“Why do all men have to eat like starving dogs?” Jan asked from behind him.

Tony nudged the elevator button with his elbow and made a production of chewing with his mouth open while he waited for the doors to open. “That’s rich coming from you,” he said thoughtlessly. When she tilted her head, he realized that Tony Stark had never been to an after-battle dinner. Jan’s abilities sucked up calories like greedy sponges, and she was far from a prim ladylike nibbler then.

“I remember what you were like as a teenager,” Tony said, covering the lapse by wiping his cuff across his mouth like a five year-old. “You can’t fool me.” He stuck his tongue out for effect.

Jan rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She leaned against the wall and watched him for a second as he chewed through chips. “You look tired,” she said finally.

The elevator door opened with a soft _ping_ and Tony flashed her a smile. “No rest for the wicked,” he said, and then backed into the elevator and waved.

She shifted her weight as if she was going to follow him in, but Tony just stayed at the front of the elevator and crunched into an apple slice. By the time she realized that he wasn’t going to step back, the doors were already closing. He waved at her again with three fingers and she let him go with a short wave of her own, lips quirked up and weight leaning all on one leg. It gave her a fashion-model sort of mystique and Tony marveled again at the way their lives had brought them to the Avengers.

Tony had a stack of work a mile high, but what he really wanted was to slip into the suit and go upstairs when he didn’t have to be so careful about every word that came out of his mouth. He stopped just inside the workshop doors and stared at his brief case with the pieces of Iron Man inside. It would be easy to slip into the suit, wander upstairs, bump into Steve. Maybe find a way to let him out of going to the event, or see if he was up for a spar, or maybe a game of chess.

It would be easy, but it wouldn’t fix the issue of someone breaking into his firewall, and it wouldn’t get his battery back on track. Set the plate down on a work station and cracked his knuckles. Time to start doing some digging. Whoever had broken into his system was about to be very sorry.

**~*~**

Tony stood in front of his mirror and adjusted the lapel on his jacket. He was still nursing a bad bruise from a brief fight with a trio of bank robbers who’d turned up with a battering ram and caught him in the side. He braced his hands on the counter and stared at his reflection, looking for any signs that Iron Man was lurking under his tux. He hadn’t needed to wear the chestplate under his clothing for years, but sometimes he still caught himself checking the lines of his jackets to see if it was visible under his shirt.

Tony had been so busy trying to track down the thief that he’d hardly seen Steve since making the huge mistake of inviting him to the event. He had tried to let him off the hook as Iron Man, but Steve had blithely waved him away, and said he didn’t mind being the Avengers’ face at the party. He’d been very determined, straight-backed and square-jawed, not much different than he looked when he was headed off into battle. Tony should have sent him an email cancelling, let him know that his presence wouldn’t be necessary, maybe invited Jan instead. Jan was safe for Tony to interact with, at least a little, because they’d known each other before Iron Man and Wasp.

He hadn’t though, because as frustrating and dangerous as it was to spend time with Steve outside of the Iron Man suit, he didn’t want to spend another long night staring at people he no longer had anything in common with. He needed them, but being around them just made him feel like pretender he’d become. Having Steve around made him feel like less of a fake. Rubbing his hands over his face, Tony straightened up and tugged on his tie. He tried on a smile, let out a breath, and grabbed the suitcase suit on his way out of the room.

Steve was waiting for him down at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a sharply pressed midnight blue three piece suit with a red silk tie and polished black oxfords. He’d combed his hair over to the side, and it looked old fashioned, and absolutely perfect. He turned when he heard Tony at the top of the stairs and smiled, warm and pleasant. It was like something out of a fever dream to descend a staircase to a waiting Steve Rogers, and Tony had try hard not to laugh.

“I thought since we were both headed to the same place, you might want to go together?” Steve asked. He set a hand on the banister and one foot on the bottom stair, like he knew he was giving Tony ridiculous dream material for the next decade.

Tony cleared his throat and turned sideways to step around Steve’s bulk. He fiddled with one cufflink so he had an excuse not to meet Steve’s eyes. “Sure thing. Any requests on the automobile of the night?”

Chuckling and plucking at a button on his vest, Steve said, “The suits probably wouldn’t appreciate my motorcycle.”

“Probably not,” Tony said with a pang of regret. The paparazzi would have a field day if Tony Stark and Steve Rogers AKA Captain America showed up a big charity event on the same motorcycle. He almost said _fuck the suits_ , just for the headlines the next day. “We’ll have to take one of the sedans,” he decided, passing over the notion of squeezing Steve into the Tesla. “Happy insists on driving for these kinds of events.”

“Would it be easier if I went separately?” Steve asked, following Tony through the kitchen and out to the garage.

Tony waved a dismissive hand. “Not at all. Though I hope you’re ready for the press.”

When Tony looked back, Steve had that determined expression on his face again. Tony chaffed under it – Steve never looked like that around Iron Man unless they were in combat. He stopped by the BMW and turned to face Steve, pushing his free hand into his pocket so he didn’t give into the urge to fiddle. He still found himself twisting the handle of his briefcase.

“You really don’t need to go,” he said finally. “I know these kinds of events aren’t really your style.”

Steve’s expression melted into a smile. “I said I would go,” he pointed out, and then gestured down to himself. “I’m already dressed, and you _did_ promise me overpriced hor d’oeuvres and live music.”

Something deep in Tony’s chest started to unwind. “I did.” He turned back around and fished his phone out of his pocket to text Happy that they were ready to go. Happy responded immediately, so he must have been sitting with his phone waiting for the go-ahead.

“Mr. Stark,” Steve said softly, stepping around the car so they were within easy touching distance, but he didn’t reach out. “Tony,” he amended, “I’m happy to go with you. I’d like to get to know you better. We live in the same house I barely ever see you.”

Tony gaped at him while Steve’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink, but was saved from having to respond by the back door clattering open. Happy came through with one arm in his suit jacket and the BMW’s keys dangling off one finger.

“Evening, Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers.”

“Happy. Think you can get us to the event by _fashionably late_?” Tony asked, waiting next to the back door for the _click_ of the locks cycling.

“I could get you there by _not late at all_ , if you wanted,” Happy offered, pulling the driver’s door open. He’d stopped trying to open Tony’s door for him after Tony had responded by shoving Happy in the back seat and taking the wheel himself. It had been a memorable drive.

“Fashionably late will do,” Tony said with a wink.

On the opposite side of the car, Steve cocked his head curiously and looked down at his watch – an antique with a worn brown leather band and a gold face – and then looked back up at Tony curiously.

Tony smirked. “We’ll just blame it on Captain America,” he decided, and then slid into the car before Steve could protest.

“As you like, sir,” Happy answered cheerfully. He angled his head to see them in the rearview mirror, waiting for the _click, click_ of their seatbelts locking into place. It was Tony’s rule that the car didn’t start until all seat belts were secured, even if guests were being recalcitrant. Maybe if his mother had been wearing her seatbelt, she would still be alive, though even a seatbelt wouldn’t have saved his dad.

Tony dismissed the odd woolgathering with a shake of his head and offered Happy a tight smile and a nod. The car started up with _vroom_ and settled into a gentle ticking purr. Happy let the engine warm up for a moment while he checked his mirrors and fiddled with his seat. The silence in the back seat stretched and took on weight until it felt like a third passenger sitting between Tony and Steve with its legs spread obnoxiously so it was invading their space. Tony shifted his weight and took his phone back out while Steve did his best to look like he wasn’t watching Tony out of the corner of his eye. Tony realized that they’d never been alone in a car together as Tony Stark and Steve Rogers – honestly, “Tony Stark” had rarely been alone with Steve at all. It was strange and frustrating, and Tony felt oddly exposed without the armor in between them, like Steve could see right through him, all his secret spilling out across his skin. _I’m Iron Man,_ might have been written on the side of his face. _I think I’m in love with you_ , might have been scrawled up his neck, flickering in time with his pulse.

 _Get it together, Stark_ , Tony thought at himself.

“Something wrong?”

Tony jolted in the seat just as Happy put the car in reverse and eased out of the garage. “What?”

Steve gestured to his phone. “You’re scowling at it like it called you names.”

The laugh was startled out of him more than anything and Steve grinned. Tony shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the first time, Winghead,” he said, and then pressed the display button. He’d just had his email up, and there was nothing pressing that wouldn’t also take longer than he had on the car ride.

When Tony looked up, Steve was giving him a curious look, head tilted, lips hovering on a bemused smile. Tony realized he’d called Steve _Winghead_ , and that was Iron Man’s territory, not Tony’s. He decided to just not say anything and hope Steve would chalk it up to Iron Man chatting with his employer.

“Do you know any of the children who will be performing?” Steve asked finally, seeming to let it go.

“Not really. I’ve met some of them at the Foundation, but I try to keep out of the Foundation’s day-to-day activities. I draw too much press on my wake – which is a good thing sometimes, but usually it’s just disruptive. Not to mention the certain amount of danger that comes along with being near me.”

Steve nodded. “You are a pretty high value target, even with Iron Man always lurking around you.”

“You’d think that they would have learned by now that he’s always close by,” Tony muttered.

“He does a surprisingly good job of being invisible, considering how big and brightly colored he is,” Steve said with a chuckle, watching Tony carefully.

Tony felt a brief twist of unease under his ribcage. This was why being alone with Steve had never been a good idea. He was too smart by half to miss any little slip on Tony’s part. His attaché was balanced on its side, stuffed between the door and Tony’s legs, the edge pressing awkwardly into his leg. He had a sudden waking nightmare of the car hitting a bump and the briefcase popping open, Iron Man spilling out onto the floorboards. He had built the briefcase so it wouldn’t open without his thumbprint, and he’d practiced the lie in case of some kind of freak accident – carrying it for his bodyguard, who was an anonymous face in the crowd, unobtrusively watching for threats. He was prepared to tell anyone or everyone that it had always been the case – that to maintain his identity, Iron Man stayed near in normal clothing and only collected the suit when he was needed. Tony kept the briefcase with him because he was a businessman who was most likely to need the protection – camouflage for him, and Iron Man stayed unencumbered.

It didn’t make the most sense, and it would blow any notion out of the water that Iron Man needed the suit for life support. Really, it would ruin just about everything, but it was a reasonable, available lie if needed. He found himself practicing it silently in his head while Steve stared out the window at the passing scenery.

~*~

“Mr. Stark, who is that charming young man you arrived with?” Mrs. Prescott asked him, putting a hand on his forearm. She was in her seventies, but largely still acted like he imagined she had in her thirties – the polite young socialite. She gave him a charming sideways-and-up-smile that probably got her into trouble when she was younger.

“His name is Steve,” Tony said with no small amount of amusement. “He’s a friend of mine.”

Tony wasn’t sure why he didn’t append that he was _Captain America,_ but for some reason he felt like it wasn’t his place to ‘out’ to Steve, despite the fact that Steve Rogers’ identity was not a secret. It was strange the way Steve had just disappeared into the crowd, and the only fuss that anyone had made over him was that he’d stepped out of Tony’s car. How was it that Steve didn’t even have a secret identity, and still had more of a secret identity than Tony?

“Well, he’s very handsome,” Mrs. Prescott continued. “I don’t suppose he’s single? My youngest granddaughter is about his age, I think. She’s a lovely girl. Just started her second year at Harvard Law. She had a ‘gap year,’ you know.” She waved one gloved hand, her diamond tennis bracelet catching the light and fracturing it briefly into rainbows. “You young kids. She spent her ‘gap year’ running around Europe like a bum. Not that there are many bums, I imagine, who have trust funds waiting to bail them out of a French prison.” She made an ‘oops, silly me’ gesture with two fingers set to her lips, and then waved her hand delicately between them. “Still, she’s getting it together.”

Giving her a bland smile, Tony said, “I’m sure she’ll make you proud.”

“Eventually,” Mrs. Prescott agreed. “Still, a nice young boy to keep her tied to the States wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I think she has some notion of going to _Africa_ after she graduates. Something about building huts.” She made a distasteful face. “You really should ask your friend if he’d like to spend a weekend in the Hamptons this year. I’m sure Anastasia could be _persuaded_ to come along.”

“I’m not sure that he’s free,” Tony said and faked sympathy at her obvious disappointment. He could see the scheming going on behind her sharp hazel eyes, but was freed from her machinations by a careful _tap-tap-tap_ on the microphone. “That’s my cue, excuse me Mrs. Prescott. It was lovely to see you again.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Mable, Tony?”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Tony replied, as he always did, and she tittered at him, as she always did. He stepped out of her immediate arm’s reach, gave her flourishing bow, and turned on his heel. He wanted to roll his eyes and groan in relief to escape her, but he didn’t. Just because Mable Prescott couldn’t see him didn’t mean that any number of her friends or rivals couldn’t see him. He kept the plastic smile glued to his face and moved through the crowd, shaking hands and passing out meaningless greetings, and compliments, accepting cuffs to the shoulder and hands pounding his back in fake camaraderie.

Society functions were such an exercise in self-control, he hardly understood how Howard had managed it. Then again, Howard had been one of the sharks himself, perfectly at home in the political ocean. Still, he couldn’t say that he minded taking money from the insulated, racist, privileged elite and using it to help the people they hated. It was his mother’s specialty.

He made it to the stage where the master of ceremonies was waiting, politely clapping as Tony dragged himself away from a group of admirers and hopped up the stairs. He took the microphone with and waved to the gathered crowd. “Hello! Thank you all for coming to the ninth annual Maria Stark Foundation charity gala!”

A round of applause rippled through the room. Tony waited for it to quiet down, and then moved smoothly out of the way and gestured to the student band behind him. The band was composed of students from half a dozen schools who participated in the after-school program. There were paintings and drawings on easels spread around the room, each one being auctioned off for funds.

“Our rising stars,” Tony said. The kids smiled and waved, and a cacophony of _toot_ s and _blurrp_ s and _clatterthumpshhhuuu_ echoed off the walls. The crowd laughed, so charmed by these poor kids who got to have a night under the lights away from their dull existence, isn’t that nice?

Tony stayed off to the side and kept the derision out of his voice as he continued on, explaining what the Maria Stark Foundation’s after school program accomplished, and what programs they were planning to expand, and stroked the egos of his rich compatriots, and threw in a few jokes (haha) about how they were only his friends because of their pocket books. They all laughed like it wasn’t true, and then Tony set the tone by handing his own donation over to the master of ceremonies.

“Now I know someone out there wants to beat me at _something_ ,” Tony noted. He pointed toward a knot of men in the middle of the room and quirked an eyebrow as he asked, “Right, Isaac?”

Laughter fluttered over the crowd, and Isaac Cohen held his hands up in mock surrender while his compatriots patted him on the back, acknowledging their not exactly friendly rivalry. He wrapped up, handed the microphone back to the master of ceremonies, accepted the handshake and didn’t pull away from having his elbow cupped in the process. The director got the band back on track, and Tony got back to his job for the evening.

~*~

“You really hate these people.”

Tony turned away from the view of the city and looked back to see Steve stepping out onto the balcony. He closed the narrow door behind him, and the curtain thankfully hid them from easy view. With any luck, Tony might get another ten or twenty minutes of relative peace and quiet before anyone came to find him. It was a very small balcony, almost more of a shelf, and Steve had to turn sideways to pass between the shrubs as he moved onto the porch.

“I don’t hate them,” Tony said, lying just a little. “I _was_ them.” He snorted into his sparkling cider, turned back to lean on the balcony rail, and amended, “I am them.”

“You’re not,” Steve argued. “You’re not like them.”

“Sure I am. Silver spoon from birth, dad gave me a Ferrari for my sixteenth birthday, I spent my _gap year_ on a beach in Hawaii. That was after my first master’s degree, but I’m pretty sure it still counts. I have too much money and I spend it on frivolous things, and every now and then I give some away to kids who don’t have a million dollar play fund account waiting for them to turn eighteen.” He might have given away what was a lot compared to some of the others, who typically made contributions based on what they needed for tax deductions, but that didn’t mean he didn’t spend the rest on silly things. Fancy cars, new gadgets he didn’t need.

Steve eased his broad shoulders between Tony and the decorative potted plant in the corner. He set his own elbows on the rail and looked out over the city. “You didn’t pick the world you were born into any more than the rest of us did,” he said finally. “But you’re not up in an ivory tower. You get down in the mud with everyone else. You don’t have to do the things you do, and your life would be a lot more comfortable if you didn’t. The charities, the Avengers, all the damage you cover after villain attacks and disasters… any of it.”

“Don’t pat me on the back too hard,” Tony said, but he let himself be comforted for the moment it took him to remember all the things he hadn’t done. “Thank you for coming tonight. Sorry I haven’t seen much of you.”

Shrugging, Steve said, “You’ve been busy separating the ivory tower folks from a couple of their silver spoons.”

Tony gave him a sly sideways look. “So you’re going to put a bid on the red and gold one?” he asked casually.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Steve’s answering smile and not a hint of embarrassment on his face. Despite his claims that he wasn’t very good at “glad handing,” Steve had taken to working the crowd like a pro. He’d gotten into a debate with an art critic about the promise of the 14 year-old girl who’d painted an abstract red and gold piece that had been situated toward the back of the room, rattled off some impressive numbers of what he thought it was worth, and made a big show of writing it down on his card. Tony didn’t think Steve had 200,000 dollars to put toward a charity, but then again, his back pay must have been a pretty impressive amount. The last time Tony had checked, the small painting had the most interest in the room.

“It’s very nice,” Steve said finally. “I really do think she has bright future. There’s a gallery owner in there who might talk to her about a show.”

“You just like the colors,” Tony teased, but he was excited for the artist, and he hoped everything worked out for her.

Steve’s cheeks colored and he ducked away from Tony’s gaze. “Red and gold are very nice,” he murmured finally, giving Tony a charmingly shy smile.

“I, for one, am very partial to the combination,” Tony agreed. Warmth was settling in his chest, his stomach fluttering nervously as it finally occurred to him that maybe Steve was _flirting_ with him. “But I’m sure you could have guessed that. I don’t wear much else these days.”

Steve’s expression turned speculative, and Tony froze, replaying what he’d said and trying to backtrack. “They’re the _in_ colors this year,” he said lamely.

Silence stretched for a few seconds. “Someone should tell Jan,” Steve said after a moment. “I’m pretty sure she thinks its turquoise and silver.”

Tony winced. “She does like to be a trend-setter more than a trend-follower,” he tried.

Steve made a noncommittal noise and took a sip of his drink. Tony couldn’t tell what it was on sight, but it could have been cider, or champagne, or sparkling water, or any combination of spirit-and-soda. He concentrated on his own drink, but his pulse was hammering, and really, he was caught. Maybe he’d been caught for a long time and Steve had just been too polite to say anything. He could see Steve doing something ridiculous and kind like that, watching him lie his pants off and waiting patiently for Tony to come to clean. All at once, Tony realized how ready he was to come clean, at least to Steve. He was tired of the double life, and having to manage a two front war of Tony Stark’s problems and Iron Man’s problems.

“I’ve really… Thank you, Steve,” Tony fumbled. He looked over to see Steve watching him carefully, and couldn’t force the words out any further. _I am Iron Man._ He blurted out, “For coming tonight, I mean.”

Steve shrugged. He took another sip and then turned the glass in his hands. “It’s been more fun than I expected. I don’t think I single person in that room recognized me. It’s nice.”

“It still means a lot to have you here.” Tony took a slow breath and said, “I’ve always appreciated you. Being on the team with you,” he clarified awkwardly, “and having you as a friend, and being so close _...” I am Iron Man. I think I love you._ It shouldn’t have been that hard, and Steve obviously… most likely… probably already knew. Maybe not the second part, though Tony was definitely getting a flirty-intimate-romantic vibe from Steve. “You mean a lot to me, Steve. Really a lot.”

“Tony.” Steve looked stunned. He drew in a shuddery breath, his hands tightening on his glass. He swallowed hard. “I –… Wow. Really?”

“Really,” Tony said, but hesitated, suddenly needing to be sure. “We’re talking about the same thing, right, Winghead?”

Steve straightened up, cast a glance back at the ballroom. “I always thought that maybe you were... Wow.” His face lit up with a glowing smile and he reached out hesitantly for Tony’s hand. His fingers hovered an inch away from Tony’s wrist.

“You’re not angry?” Tony asked, stupidly, because obviously Steve wasn’t _angry_. If anything, he seemed excited. Ecstatic. “To know that I… All this time that we were so close and I never told you?”

Closing the gap between them, Steve wrapped his hand around Tony’s wrist and tugged him gently around so they were face-to-face. “Why would I be angry?” He looked so earnest. “Honestly, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it, but I thought maybe you didn’t want to. Sometimes it feels like you avoid me.”

Steve wasn’t going to make him say it out loud. The relief was so strong that Tony felt his skin tingling. He swallowed hard – in any of the many scenarios he’d imagined about being found out, this conversation only happened when he was at his weakest.

“I just didn’t know what you would think, and the team is so important to me,” he confessed. “I’d like to keep this just between you and me for a little while longer, still.” Tony Stark still had a leak to stop up and a thief to catch before he could expose himself and his friends to any additional danger. Right now, the issue with the thief was just a Stark Industries issue. If it somehow got out to the public that SI and the Avengers had an even closer tie than it already appeared, the Avengers might become the hacker’s next target.

Disappointment flashed briefly across Steve’s face, but he nodded. “Tony there’s nothing in the world that would affect your place with the Avengers. Not even if things went south with us. It _is_ kind of your house,” he pointed out, and then smiling softly, said, “You gave me a home. There’s nothing that could ever happen between us to outweigh that.”

Tony barked out a nervous laugh. He didn’t even know how to respond to that one. He set his glass down on the railing and covered his face with the freed hand, suddenly giddy with relief. “My God. I never realized how good it would feel to just _tell_ you. I’ve been keeping this secret for so long.”

Steve abandoned his own drink and reached for Tony’s cheek, moving slowly. Tony leaned his face into Steve’s palm, enjoying the warmth and security of the touch. Steve smelled like gun oil, and sandalwood soap, and the Serge Lutens’ Borneo 1834 cologne Tony had gotten him for Christmas.

“Tony, can I kiss you now?” Steve asked breathlessly. He was practically vibrating with anxious excitement.

Tony straightened up, reversed their grip so he had Steve’s wrist in his palm, and tugged. Their lips met in an awkward bump, Steve’s hand slipping down to Tony’s shoulder. They pulled back and shared a nervous laugh. Steve slid his hand to the back of Tony’s neck and gently adjusted the angle of his head with a thumb pressed into the hollow of Tony’s jaw. He was still smiling where their lips met for the second time. He tasted faintly of strawberries and mint, and his lips were softer than Tony would have expected.

They separated slowly. Tony opened his eyes and found Steve’s still closed, cheeks flushed, his lips parted. With his long lashes and the light hitting him perfectly from behind, he looked like an edgy ad for cologne or men’s underwear. Tony had an abrupt desire to see him in lipstick, and had to look away before he actually _said that out loud_.

“Steve?” Tony prodded.

Steve let his eyes drift open. “Hmm?”

“Want to get out of here?”

Straightening up as though he’d forgotten where they were, Steve twisted to give the balcony door a dirty look. “Shouldn’t we stay?” he asked reluctantly.

“Maybe,” Tony said, twisting his hand in a so-so gesture. “But we’ve met the minimum attendance requirements and the kids have already gone home. I’ve been here at least an hour longer than I used to stay. After this, it’s just a bunch of really racist bigots getting too drunk to curb their tongues.”

“I could stand to miss that,” Steve said. He pulled Tony up again to set another kiss to the side of his mouth. “And I can think of a few better things we could do with our evening.” 

Tony put a hand to his chest and fluttered his eyelashes. “My, how forward. What kind of girl do you think I am, Captain?”

Steve chuckled. “I was thinking a walk through the park, but by all means, Mr. Stark, show me what kind of girl you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve kept a careful eye on Tony as he skirted around the ballroom. His heart was fluttering hard against his ribs, and he could feel the flicker of it in his neck. He and Tony were going to leave the gala together. They’d arrived together of course, but they were going to leave _together_. His feet felt cold in his shoes, and his skin felt over sensitive. He’d considered just climbing down the side of the building to escape, but Tony had to make a final appearance to excuse himself, and Steve wasn’t about to abandon him to proverbial wolves.

The room had gotten louder and seemed to have relaxed since Steve had snuck away. A DJ had taken the place of the band, and the guests talked over the quiet music. A few couples were dancing near the stage, almost every hand had a champagne flute or cocktail in hand, and they’d broken up into clumps. The art was still displayed around the room, but it was being ignored by the partygoers. Everywhere he looked was a sea of fancy dresses and tailored tuxedos. When he’d been very young, he’d wondered what it would be like to be at one of those fancy-dress parties, had imagined his mother in an elegant dress as he led her into the room. He’d thought it would be exciting and glamorous and fun. He’d been to a few fancy-dress parties since, and mostly they were boring and stressful. He’d take a dance hall and a pint of beer any day.

Tony wended his way through the middle of the crowd, generously giving out smiles and handshakes. If Steve hadn’t seen him out on that tiny balcony looking so tired and so done with it all, he would have thought that Tony looked like he was at home, that he was enjoying himself. Steve glanced around the room again and wondered how many of the attendees were actually enjoying themselves, and how many would get into their fancy cars to go home and groan in relief to be out of the shark tank, maybe rub the smiles off their face, and kick off their shoes, and just want to be home.

Steve kept steady pace along the edge of the ballroom, pulling up smiles when he had to duck around someone, avoiding being dragged into conversation when someone looked at him speculatively. There was one woman who must have been getting close to eighty who’d been trying to corner him all night. She’d asked if he’d like to join her family in the Hamptons, and where he’d gone to school, and if he was single. Steve recognized a meddling grandmother on the cupid-path when he saw one, and was trying to avoid offending her, at least until the gala was over. He spotted her just as Tony was separating himself from the clutches of blustery man with a giant mustache on his way to the door. Steve slid behind a column to avoid her searching eyes and eased around it like he was clearing a corner in a warzone.

“Take the side door,” someone suggested from behind him.

When Steve turned around, he found a slight woman in a black polka-dot dress with bright red pumps to match her lipstick. She had cocktail in one hand and a black clutch in the other. Steve realized that the tiny polka-dots on her dress were actually very small skulls and warmed up to her right away.

She stuffed her clutch under arm and held out her hand. “Anastasia Prescott,” she introduced, and then nodded her chin toward the ballroom floor. “That’s my grandmother you’re trying to avoid.” She laughed at Steve’s expression. “I don’t blame you. She’s been trying to find me a husband ever since I came out. My girlfriend will be finishing her residency in three years, and then we’re planning to go to Africa for a year. Mary is going to work at a clinic, and I’ll be teaching. Grandmother is beside herself.”

“I’ve never been to Africa,” Steve managed to keep from blurting out his thoughts on Anastasia’s grandmother. The flush of anger that rippled down his spine forced him to suck in a chest-opening breath. He felt his neck straightening and his shoulders going back.

Anastasia laughed again, but didn’t seem upset. She took a sip of her cocktail and then jerked her head to the left. “Garden door,” she explained. “Follow the building around to the left and there’s a gate that will let you out onto the street. It’s locked, but I’m sure Captain America can find his way around that.”

She winked at him, and then drained her cocktail and patted him on his arm. “I’ll distract Grandma for you.”

“I hope you and your girlfriend do well in Africa,” Steve said. There were plenty of clinics and schools at home that could probably use their help just as well, but Steve still applauded them for wanting to do some good in the world. If he had a grandmother like hers, he might want to run to Africa as well. “And congratulations to you, on Harvard.”

Anastasia put a hand on the column. Instead of responding, she said, “Maybe I’ll introduce you to Mary next time.”

“I look forward to it.”

She smiled again and trailed her hand around the column as she disappeared into the crowd. Steve spotted the door she’d mentioned, and peered around the column. Anastasia had a wicked smile on her face as she threaded her arm through her grandmother’s, and he spotted Tony just as he made it up the stairs to the front door. Steve looked back at the garden door, and then turned away from it. He gave Mrs. Prescott a bright smile and a wave on his way to the front door.

~*~

Steve found Tony waiting at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against a partial wall with his phone out. The sidewalk was disserted, but Happy was waiting on the curb with the car. Tony had undone his bowtie, leaving it to hang loose around his neck. He’d run his hands through his hair at some point – it was charmingly disheveled, and the phone’s display gave him soft blue highlights.

Happy straightened up, which got Tony’s attention. He glanced up from his phone and then twisted to look up. Steve met his eyes and the smile on his face was like a sunrise in the semi-darkness of the streetlights. Tony was one of those rare people who smiled with his entire face, and it changed his entire aspect when he did.

Steve cleared his throat and started down the stairs, reaching up to loosen his own tie. It felt like he was having trouble swallowing. Tony stayed where he was, watching with a secretive smile as Steve struggled to keep up a casual pace down the stairs rather than jumping down them two and three at a time. Steve wondered what was going on behind Tony’s smile, and couldn’t resist hopping down the last step.

Tony’s smile bloomed again, and he gestured down the street. “We’re just a few blocks down from the park if you still want to take that walk,” he offered. He gave Steve a sly smile and added, “Or we can go straight home.”

It was on the tip of Steve’s tongue to ask to go home, but he wanted more than that – he didn’t want to start their relationship on nothing but sex. He wanted to know Tony as more than the generous billionaire who breezed in and out of his life leaving gifts in his wake, more than as just the creator of Iron Man.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Steve said. “Let’s walk.”

Steve thought that Tony might have been disappointed, but he looked quietly pleased by Steve’s answer and waved at Happy.

“Take the night off, Hap. We can get a cab home.”

“I’ll drive around the park a few times,” Happy said, “Just give me a call when you’re ready to head back.”

“Who’s the boss here, anyway?” Tony asked, pretending outrage.

“You just gave me the night off, boss,” Happy pointed out, pushing away from the car and walking around to the driver’s side. “If I choose to drive around the park a few times, who are you to tell me I can’t?”

Steve laughed while Tony just stared after him, slack-jawed, as Happy started the car and slid into traffic. He stuck his hand out of the window and waved at them over the top of the car.

Tony jerked a finger at the car’s tail lights. “Do you see what I have to put up with?”

Taking a risk, Steve slung an arm over Tony’s shoulders and tugged him toward the park. “You poor thing. However do you survive?”

~*~

Steve kept his hands in his pockets so Tony wouldn’t see how nervous he was as they walked through the park. He was on a date with Tony Stark. He, Steve Rogers, was on an actual date with Tony Stark. He’d already surreptitiously pinched himself twice to make sure he was still awake.

He and Tony had gotten off to a bit of a rocky start. Despite how quickly he’d become friends with Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers, Tony had always been a nut that he just couldn’t crack. He’d been taken with Tony from the beginning, but despite Tony’s unthinking generosity, he’d been aloof and rarely seen at the mansion. When Tony had moved into the mansion, Steve’s plans to get him to warm up had met the brick wall of his absence. Tony had been around a little more lately, and anytime they were alone it always seemed like Tony had something he wanted to say, like there was a spark between them just waiting to catch.

Was it possible that Tony had just been _shy_ all this time? It seemed unbelievable, but he’d been so sweet and so uncertain on the balcony. Steve wanted to reach out and take Tony’s hand in his, but he was very aware of the people around them. Tony wanted to keep them – keep himself – a secret ‘for a while.’ He wouldn’t appreciate any public displays of affection. Steve was hopeful that maybe one day he would feel comfortable enough to at least let the Avengers see him, but if anyone understood wanting to keep parts of himself private, it was Steve. He’d never exactly advertised his preferences, though he’d never hidden them from close friends either, even when his preferences could have gotten him thrown into a sanitarium, a prison, or a grave.

“Park walking in the moonlight. This is such a cliché, and… kind of amazing,” Tony said after a long stretch of silence. He gave Steve a sideways smile and Steve had to fight hard not to drag him away and kiss him breathless. He’d taken his tie off completely and the red silk was just peeking out his pocket. He had two buttons undone at his throat, and his jacket caught on one finger slung casually over his shoulder. The casual dishevelment was a good look for him, and the clothes were so perfectly tailored that they showed off every lovely angle.

“We should do it more often,” Steve suggested hesitantly. Their conversation on the balcony hadn’t included whether there would be a ‘more often’ or even a ‘more than once,’ but Steve was a firm believer in beginning the way he wanted to continue, and he wanted a lot more than once with Tony.

Tony’s face softened and he swayed slightly so their sleeves brushed together as they walked. “We should. Maybe you should let me fly you to Malibu. Gets a little cold that far up, but I can keep you warm, and it’s a short flight. Would you trust me?” he asked curiously. “To do that?”

Steve ducked his head to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks. “I would trust you with anything, Tony.”

The soft smile bloomed into a lovely grin and Tony covered his mouth with one hand to hide it. Steve wanted to reach forward and wrap his fingers around Tony’s wrist, uncover his smile, tangle their fingers together. He looked away and took slow breaths. A warm scent of cinnamon and sugar blew past them on the wind, and Steve automatically tilted his chin up to breathe it in.

“Roasted almonds,” Tony provided, scenting the air himself. “I haven’t had them in years.”

“Brings back memories,” Steve said. “Roasted nuts were my favorite when I was young. There was this grandmother down the block who would toast and spice them in the winter. Chestnuts, almonds sometimes when we could get them, peanuts mostly. One time, she got ahold of some macadamia nuts – just a handful of them. She gave me two, and I thought I’d gone to heaven.”

Without Steve realizing, Tony had gently steered them down a side path and they turned the corner to find a cart under a streetlight with paper cones on display. They were decorated in blue and pink checkers, and the scent was fantastic. Tony strolled right up to the cart, already fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. Steve opened his mouth to protest that it wasn’t necessary, but he stopped. Tony looked so relaxed and pleased as he handed over a few bills, waved away his change, and selected two cones – one blue, and one pink.

“No macadamia nuts,” he said regretfully. “Do you want cinnamon almonds, or chili-lime peanuts?”

Steve cocked his head. “The peanuts if you don’t mind me stealing some of your almonds.”

“I think an exchange could be arranged,” Tony said with a sideways look. He handed the blue cone over and peeled the fold back of his own cone.

Steve darted his fingers under Tony’s and snagged an almond. Tony made an outraged noise and jerked the cone out of range. Steve laughed as he popped the stolen treat into his mouth. It was still warm and the sweet burst of cinnamon and sugar made saliva flood his mouth. “I did warn you I was going to steal it,” Steve reminded him. “That is amazing.” He reached for another, but Tony fended him off with one hand.

“Uh-uh. I said an _exchange_.” He turned his hand over and made a _gimmie_ gesture with his fingers.

Chuckling, Steve opened his cone and carefully picked out a single peanut. The tart, spicy scent drifted up from the cone, and Steve licked his lips once before holding the morsel out. Tony gave him a speculative look, and then surprised the heck out of him by stopping and opening his mouth in waiting expectation. Steve cast a glance around them – the pathway was sparsely populated, and no one was paying attention to them. He set the spiced peanut against Tony’s lips and watched raptly as Tony’s tongue slid out to curl around the peanut and pull it in. He took Steve’s finger with it up to the first knuckle and lathed his tongue across it before letting him go.

Barely even aware that they were in public anymore, Steve darted forward and sealed their lips together in a brief kiss. Tony curled a hand in his open jacket and twisted, dragging him closer. His mouth fell open and he sucked Steve’s lower lip in between his teeth.

They probably wouldn’t have stopped at all except that Tony tried to put his arm around Steve’s shoulders and ended up dumping half of his almonds on the ground. He pulled back with a curse and a sharp inhale.

“Maybe we should keep exchanges to a minimum until we get home.”

Breathing heavily, Steve managed a shaky nod. He tried to adjust himself surreptitiously, but Tony wasn’t fooled. He smiled rakishly as he tipped his head back and shook a few of his remaining almonds into his mouth. Steve tried a few peanuts just to distract himself and pointedly didn’t laugh when Tony did some surreptitious adjusting of his own.

“Want to head for the street and see if Happy has managed to keep up?” Tony asked. “I have some red silk sheets that you should really take a look at. I think you might approve.”

Steve flushed, and breathed through a tight pulse of arousal low in his gut. “If Happy hasn’t kept up, I might just put you over my shoulder and carry you home,” he warned.

~*~

It was a trial to keep his hands to himself in the back of the BMW while Tony kept up a lively conversation with Happy, exchanging gossip, Tony with his battle stories from navigating the ballroom, Happy with his anecdotes from the card game with the other drivers. Steve just leaned on the armrest and listened to their friendly back-and-forth while he plotted out a dozen different paths to get into Tony’s room unseen. Considering that Tony’s room was directly across the hall from his, he didn’t need much of a plan. Nonetheless, he amused himself with different scenarios – one of the Avengers unexpectedly turning the corner and Steve having to explain why he was opening Tony’s door at one in the morning. Having to come up with an excuse to go to bed early when Clint damn well knew that he usually didn’t go to sleep until one or two in the morning. Dodging around Jan or Thor on his way up the stairs. He even considered the benefits of climbing out of his window, over the roof, and back down to Tony’s window.

He tried hard not to think about what they might be doing when they made it to Tony’s red silk sheets, but it was difficult. Long before he’d developed a crush on their benefactor, Iron Man had been Steve’s guilty fantasy, and he didn’t even know what his friend looked like. With nothing better to latch onto, Steve’s fantasies of Iron Man had been red fabric and the scent of warm metal. Over the years it had gotten to the point that red was a guaranteed trigger for him, and Tony’s own propensity for wearing red had just compounded the association in his head. It still felt surreal that here they were, hands linked together, and red silk sheets in their immediate future.

Where Tony had sat scrunched hard against the door on the way to the gala, he was sprawled out comfortably as they winded through the streets back to the mansion. Steve angled himself slightly in the seat so their knees bumped together. Tony didn’t even break stride in his conversation as he reached over and set his hand on the seat between their hips, leaving his pinky finger a scant inch from Steve’s. He probably wasn’t as subtle as Tony, but Steve shifted his hand over and locked their little fingers together.

A smile ghosted over Tony’s face, neatly covered by a laugh. “And then he actually had the nerve to ask if I wanted to invest in his company.”

“After insulting your mother?” Happy demanded.

Steve’s head whipped around. He’d been so focused on his own fantasy that he hadn’t really been listening to the conversation.  “Who was this?”

Tony quirked his head. “Bartholomew Hilenburg. He’s an old lion of a conservative asswipe and my mother was a confirmed feminist. To say they didn’t get along would be like saying elephants are kind of large animals.”

“That’s so miserably sad,” Steve said, frowning. He couldn’t find better words for it – that someone could be both so hateful and so callous.

In the rearview mirror, Happy glanced up briefly to meet his eyes and nodded, lips pulled down slightly. Tony managed an uneven shrug, the kind of gesture that was part defense and part acknowledgement. He gave Steve a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes and curled their fingers tighter together. “Your bit with the painting wrangled twenty-seven thousand dollars out of his bank account, and it’s twenty-seven thousand dollars that I’m earmarking for a young girl to get a STEM scholarship. I’ll make sure to send him a card and let him know how much we appreciate his donation.”

“Pretty crafty, Mr. Stark,” Steve said, giving Tony’s hand a gentle shake.

“It’s how mom did it. I can’t tell you how many millions of dollars she charmed out of old windbags like him and kept very careful note of where to put their money. She was amazing.”

“Sounds like she would be proud of you.”

Tony didn’t respond, but his little finger closed tighter on Steve’s. Before Steve could figure out how to change the subject, they turned into the driveway to the mansion and Happy rolled down his window to talk to the gate guard.

“Home sweet home,” Steve said softly.

“About to get a whole lot sweeter,” Tony muttered with a roguish smile, but there was just enough of an uptick on his voice to make it a question.

Steve turned his hand over and laced their fingers together for a moment, giving Tony’s hand a firm squeeze as Happy put the car in gear and started them up the driveway.

~*~

It turned out that all of Steve’s careful planning was unnecessary. The house was quiet when they stepped in through the kitchen door, all the lights turned out except a single fixture above the table, where Jarvis was seated with a cup of tea and a book.

“Welcome home, sirs,” Jarvis greeted, standing up from the kitchen table. He was dressed in his pajamas and a dressing gown, complete with worn plaid slippers. “How was the gala?”

“Jarvis, you really don’t have to wait up. It’s almost one in the morning,” Tony said, taking his jacket off and draping it over his arm. “Go to bed.”

Steve stopped behind Tony and tried not to look awkward. What would he have done if the night had gone differently? He wasn’t sure if he would have stayed to say his goodnights, or if he would have just excused himself and walked around the kitchen isle to get to his bed.

“I’ve always been a night owl, sir. Is there anything I can get for you before I turn in?”  he asked, folding his book closed and waiting patiently.

Tony made a production of stretching, and then pointedly said, “I’m just going to go to bed.” If he was trying to be subtle, looking over his shoulder back at Steve while he did it was probably not the best way to go.

Jarvis hiked an eyebrow at them and Steve felt his face go hot. Unperturbed, Tony patted Jarvis on the shoulder and sauntered out of the room, already undoing the buttons on his shirt. Steve cleared his throat and tried not to fidget, but with Jarvis staring him down, he felt a little like he was being judged by his sweetheart’s dad. Since he had every intention of following said sweetheart up to bed, it was a thoroughly uncomfortable situation. Tony must really trust Jarvis to have made such a _very unsubtle_ announcement on his way out the door. Either that, or he was getting back at Steve for something.

“I guess I’ll just…” Steve pointed toward the door. “Bed.”

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis said. He kept their eyes locked together for several seconds, and then smoothly stepped out of the way. He waited until Steve was in arm’s reach, and then grabbed him. “Steve.”

“Am I about to get the shovel talk, Jarvis?” Steve asked uncomfortably.

“You are both adults, and I can’t imagine there is much I could say to threaten you.” He brushed a hand down Steve’s sleeve, which had lost its starched stiffness and was deeply creased. “If you would kindly leave the suit in the hallway, I will have it cleaned tomorrow.” He stepped away and then paused again and said, “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Steve watched Jarvis go, feeling unaccountably very threatened. “He should write a master class for super villains,” he muttered.

After the display in the kitchen, Steve wasn’t even sure if he should approach Tony’s door, but he found it open and Tony leaning against the doorframe, wearing a smirk and not much else. It occurred to Steve to wonder what Tony would have done if Jan had ventured out of her room before Steve had made it up the stairs, but he couldn’t make his mouth work. Tony had stripped out of everything except for a pair of red boxers and a white tank top

Without thinking, Steve stepped up to him, hands going to Tony’s hips. “These need to be smaller.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Tony laughed and asked, “My hips?”

Steve flushed. “The. Sorry, no. These.” He tugged at the fabric of the boxers. They were satiny and cool against his skin. “You have… really nice legs.”

Tony laughed again and put his hands over Steve’s wrists to walk him back into the room. Steve just had the presence of mind to elbow the door closed, and then put his hands back on Tony’s waist, finding a neat indents on his hips that fit Steve’s thumbs like they were designed that way.

“So you’d like to see me in tiny panties?” Tony asked with a playful smirk, grabbing the hem of his boxers and tugging them up so they bunched up in the creases of his hips. He turned a circle to show off his ass and the fabric looked ridiculous scrunched up, but Steve appreciated the view nonetheless. He reached forward to stop Tony’s spinning progress, and curled over to set his lips to Tony’s shoulder.

“I would love to see you in tiny red panties,” he said, “But at the moment, I would love to see you without anything at all.”

Tony leaned back against him. It was obvious how tired he was from the slant of his shoulders and his heavy-lidded blinks, but before Steve could suggest that maybe they just get some sleep and discuss panties – or lack thereof – tomorrow, Tony twisted in his arms and ran his hands up Steve’s chest.

“You sure?” Tony asked, clasping his hands behind Steve’s neck. “I know you say you like my legs, but my chest… There’s a lot of scaring. And I’m not anywhere near as young and beautiful as you are.”

Steve put a finger against his lips and drew the opposite hand down to rest on his chest. He’d known about Tony’s heart surgery and the extraordinary lengths he’d gone through just to stay alive, but it was one thing to know that, and another to have Tony’s heart fluttering under his palm. He kept his eyes on Tony’s face to watch for permission and reached down to slip one hand under the hem of his tank top. His stomach muscles tightened all at once, but Tony gave him a slightly shaky nod.

Moving slowly, Steve slid his hand under the thin fabric. Tony was more toned than Steve would have expected, his abdominal muscles well defined under a light dusting of hair. The space between his pectoral muscles flattened out, and Steve felt the ridges of scar tissue outlining a hard expanse. Tony closed his eyes and he tensed, waiting for Steve’s reaction. Steve gently pushed the fabric up and sank to his knees. Tony put his hands on the back of Steve’s head and made a soft exclamation as Steve set his lips to the skin just above the waistband of Tony’s boxers.

Looking up so he could see Tony watching him, he climbed back to his feet, leaving a trail of kisses from Tony’s naval up to his nipples. When Steve had gone as far as the tank top would allow, Tony stripped out of it, leaving himself bare. His chest was a mess of scars – neat surgical lines, twisted ropes of pale white tissue, and pockmarks scattered from his collarbone to his ribs.

“Shrapnel,” Tony explained softly, touching one of the thickest knots with two fingers. He chuckled lowly. “My own damn weapons.”

Steve placed a hand over Tony’s and moved it away to so he could set his lips to the tangle of scars. Keeping his hands firmly on Tony’s sides, he counted each of the scars with his lips – a staggering number – and then set a kiss to the flat space between his nipples.

“Beautiful,” he said.

Tony quirked a smile at him, and said, “You’re a sweet liar.”

“Are you insulting yourself, or me?” Steve asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He wrapped his fingers around the back of Tony’s neck, and ducked his head to set their lips together. Tony pushed up onto his toes, hands working the small buttons on Steve’s shirt open as they swayed together. Tony was putting most of his weight on Steve’s chest, humming softly as Steve pulled back just enough to say, “You are so tired.”

“So put me to bed,” Tony suggested.

Steve wrapped one arm around Tony’s shoulders and leaned down to scoop him up. Tony let out a startled laugh as Steve yanked back the comforter and dropped him to the bed. As promised, the mattress was dressed in red satin sheets just a few shades darker than Tony’s boxers. Steve followed him down, running his hand along the sheet as he slid into place at Tony’s side.

“You sleep on this every night?” he asked with a soft laugh. The sheets felt wonderfully luxurious against his skin.

Tony stretched and wiggled almost comically across the bed. “Why not? I told you – frivolous purchases.”

Steve hummed. “I support this frivolous purchase.” He sat up and slid down the bed, pushing the comforter down as he went until he could move between Tony’s knees. He stretched out and wrapped his arms around Tony’s legs to nuzzle at his inner thigh.

“No, no,” Tony said, curling his fingers. “Come here.”

Steve looked up curiously. Tony curled his fingers again, so Steve let go of his thighs and crawled back up the bed and lowered himself to the cradle of Tony’s pelvis, and he was immediately enveloped in Tony’s arms. They shared a slow kiss, which Tony ended with a nip to Steve’s lower lip.

“I didn’t say your face couldn’t stay down there,” Tony teased, “I just want your other half up here with me.”

Heat flushed up Steve’s neck and flared over his cheeks. For a moment, he was so stunned by the idea that he couldn’t move, just stared into Tony’s eyes and tried to find something that was the right shade of blue to compare them to, but his mind had whited out and he couldn’t think of anything. Tony laughed silently, his chest shaking and lips pulled into a smile, and then he pushed Steve’s shirt off his shoulders.

Haze finally clearing from his head, Steve fumbled his cufflinks off and helped Tony strip the shirt away. He tossed it off the bed and sat up on his knees to reach for his belt. Tony hauled himself upright and set both hands to Steve’s ribs, tracing the shape of them with his fingers, and then following with his tongue. Steve lost track of his belt as Tony’s agile tongue curled around his nipple. His lips sealed to Steve’s skin and he sucked hard, sending shivery electric shocks down Steve’s spine and straight through his belly to grab his naval.

Steve’s breath came in tripping gasps until Tony released him, and he rocked forward sharply. Tony nipped his way across Steve’s chest, up his neck, and then scraped his teeth across the stubble on Steve’s chin. His hands moved Steve’s useless fingers away from his belt, and finished the job for him, pulling the fine leather from the loops in one smooth motion. It clattered the floor, sounding loud under the tattoo of Steve’s breath. The hooks on his pants _sh-click_ ed open, and then the whisper of the zipper opening.

“Plain white cotton,” Tony observed, taking his mouth away from Steve’s neck just long enough to look down at Steve’s white cotton boxer briefs.

They were so different from what he’d grown up with, but after a mistake had left a package of them in his shopping basket, Steve hadn’t gone back to the loose shorts of his childhood. The boxer-briefs had seemed so marvelous to him at the time, being swaddled in soft cloth that stretched and moved with him like a second skin. Compared to Tony’s elegant red satin, they seemed suddenly, almost embarrassingly, plain.

“Very nice,” Tony praised. “Very good look on you. I approve.” He twisted around and climbed to his hands and knees so he could press his face against Steve’s lower abdomen. Steve put his hands on the back of Tony’s neck and smoothed them down his spine. His back was speckled with pale white scar tissue, though not nearly as badly as his chest.

Steve ran his fingertips over each one, and swirled his thumb over a nasty puncture low on his side. The sheer number of scars was less distressing than knowing how close Tony had come to at least a dozen different deaths. Steve’s pants and boxers slid down to trap his thighs together. He could get out of the makeshift restraint if he pulled hard enough, but it was his only fancy-dress suit, and he really didn’t want to ruin it.

“Lay down big guy, or I’m going to fall asleep on you.”

Steve let Tony guide him to lay on his side, but stopped Tony before he’d laid down as well. “We can just sleep, Tony. I’ll be here in the morning, and tomorrow night if you still want me.”

“Of course I’ll still want you, idiot,” Tony said, “But I want you right now. Sleep is for the weak, etcetera.”

Laughing softly, Steve kicked his pants and boxer off, and then pulled his socks away one at a time. Tony hooked his fingers under his silky red waistband and freed himself. He tossed the bundle of red fabric over the side of the bed with a negligent flick of his wrist and dropped down to his side. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s thighs and pulled him forward insistently. Steve grabbed Tony’s hip to steady himself and leaned back to watch as Tony nuzzled against him and then wrapped his tongue around Steve’s cockhead and pulled it between his lips. Gasping in a breath, Steve’s hips stuttered forward automatically, and his hands tightened on Tony’s side.

Tony pulled back and curled his spine so he could see Steve’s face. “Ease up on the super soldier grip, there,” he suggested.

Steve yanked his hand away as if he’d been burned. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, seeing faint red marks forming over Tony’s hip. He kissed the marks gently, and then drew his lips down to Tony’s erection where it was curved up toward his bellybutton and the carefully groomed hair beneath. Steve worked his free arm under Tony’s hips and pulled him in close, enjoying the noises Tony made. The angle was awkward, but Steve ducked his head to work Tony’s cock past his teeth and pressed the head to the roof of his mouth so he could work his tongue at the underside.

He gave Tony another tug, and then rolled slowly onto his back, ending up with Tony’s knees on either side of his head. Tony’s weight came to rest completely on his chest for the moment it took him to realize what was happening and adjust his arms to take some of his weight. He adjusted his knees, tilted his hips, and wrapped his hands around Steve’s thighs, rearranging Steve’s legs to his liking.

Tony’s leg muscles twitched under Steve’s hands and his hips worked in small jerks and thrusts. Far from trying to stop him, Steve adjusted his grip to encourage the motion until Tony was wantonly thrusting down into his mouth. Steve had to arch awkwardly to take Tony further into his mouth, which forced Tony lean forward further to follow the angle of Steve’s hips. They both had to stop to laugh, and Tony steadied himself on his knees.

“Work with me, here,” he said, tilting his head to look down at Steve.

Steve lifted his hands to show he was willing, and Tony tugged at Steve’s knees to get him into a more accessible position. He tilted his hips and held himself to steady to guide his cock back to Steve’s lips. Steve couldn’t see Tony’s face past his body, but he could tell from the curve of his spine that Tony was watching as his cock slid past Steve’s lips. He dropped abruptly to one elbow, gathered Steve’s erection up in his free hand, and dragged it across his lips before sucking it into his mouth.

Somehow, Tony managed to keep a steady rhythm. It was more than Steve could say for himself. His toes curled up automatically, and tingles built up across the bottoms of his feet. They spread quickly up his legs and gathered up low in his pelvis. Heat flushed over his chest and up his neck, and he struggled to breathe around Tony’s cock while at the same time urging him faster. Tony was starting to make the most glorious noises, and maybe Steve was too, but it was hard to tell what was _him_ and what was Tony anymore.

Tony pulled away abruptly and pushed his forehead into Steve’s thigh. “Steve…I’m…I’m going to –” His hips stuttered and he tried to pull back, but Steve held onto him tighter with one hand spread over his tailbone, and reached down with the other to wrap around his own cock. Tony made a strangled noise half way between need and protest, and put his mouth back on Steve’s erection, though he just hovered there, warm and open and slick.

At the first pulse of Tony’s orgasm, Steve jerked back to keep from choking and Tony went almost painfully still. Steve could feel the muscles in Tony’s back locking up, his feet curling upward until they nearly touched the backs of his thighs. Steve struggled to swallow, but one twist of his neck ended with him getting painted with semen from his cheek to his collarbone. He panted through Tony’s orgasm, trying to hold him steady so at least they didn’t make such a mess of the bed.

Tony jerked violently through the last waves of orgasm. He was left kneeling over Steve’s body, shaking and gasping for air, and then went loose. His feet thumped back to the sheets, his elbows bent, and Steve thought he was about to collapse, but he ended up lying down the length of Steve’s body, his hands pushing Steve’s thighs apart. He fell back into rhythm with a vengeance, moving so quickly that Steve was caught off guard. He thrust up once, sharply, but forced his hips to still when Tony gagged and pulled off. Hands curled in the sheets, Steve tried to relax, but Tony was like a force of nature. Steve finally had to pull a pillow over his face to keep his shouts quiet, and his vision went a little spotty as his own orgasm tore out of him like a living thing.

He might have happily passed out under the pillow, but was brought back to the land of the conscious when Tony rolled off of him with a groan.

“Not bad for… 2 am,” Tony said, and then started to laugh. “I must be getting old if that’s impressive to me.” He shifted around on the bed until he was tucked against Steve’s side. “You still alive under there?” he asked, tugging the pillow away.

Steve felt the stupid sappy smile on his face, but he couldn’t have stopped for all the world, and it just got bigger when he saw Tony’s answering smile. Tony’s hair was a disaster, his skin was misted in sweat, the air around them smelled pungently of sex, and Steve couldn’t readily remember the last time he’d felt so happy.

“I think you’ll live,” Tony observed, leaning forward to kiss him.

They were both a mess with semen, and if Steve thought about it too hard it might ruin the afterglow, so he decided very firmly not to think about it. Still, when Tony pulled back and flopped on the bed, Steve took the opportunity to roll off the side and make his shaky way to the attached bathroom. He took a moment to wash his face without checking his reflection, and then grabbed the hand towel off the rack.

Heavy lidded, Tony watched him as Steve made his way back with the damp cloth. “I have a feeling I’m still dreaming.”

“Well, I’ll be here in the morning to pinch you,” Steve offered, sitting on the bed and running the cloth over Tony’s face and chest. He hesitated and asked, “If you want me to stay the night, I mean. My bed is just across the hall, so I could –”

“Get under the covers, Winghead,” Tony ordered sleepily, though he didn’t look like he was planning on pulling up the covers anytime soon. “Talk to you in the morning.”

Steve really wanted to just drop the cloth on the carpet and curl up at Tony’s side, but he took a moment to take it back to the bathroom, draped it over the tub, and then found the light switch. He was very aware of his clothing scattered all over the floor, and thought that maybe he should pick it up, but that thought lasted only as long as it took him to feel his way back to the bed. Tony had rolled onto his side, so Steve grabbed the covers and slid in behind him, tugging the top sheet and comforter up to their chests.


	3. Chapter 3

When Tony woke up, Steve was already gone. He felt uselessly at the sheets anyways, searching for some indication that the night before hadn’t been a dream. The blankets were a mess and the room smelled like sex, but he hadn’t thought Steve was the _sneak out in the morning_ type. He sat up and ran his hands down his face, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Judging by the light, it was probably six in the morning, and if his memory was correct, he’d passed out sometime after two. He slapped blindly at the bedside table until he found his phone and turned it over to check the time. 6:13 A.M.

“Too old for his,” Tony complained, but he swung his legs out of bed, wincing at the stretch to his hamstrings. He curled his toes back and luxuriated in the tightness of his muscles. It was a good tightness, not like the _‘Hello, you’ve just been beaten to within an inch of your life’_ tightness, but the ‘ _Hello, you had a lot of fun last night_ ’ tightness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He stretched his arms and twisted his spine, and then pushed up to his feet. He remembered Steve cleaning him up, but he was still sticky with dried sweat, and he really should have detoured to brush his teeth before falling asleep.

Stepping over piles of discarding clothing, Tony ran a cool shower. He stood under the spray with his shoulders turned to the water, doing his best not to think about the night before and failing miserably. At least the cold water was helping him keep a lid on libido. He had a faint mark on his hip from Steve’s fingers, and pressed his hand over it to feel the deep throb of the bruise. It had been an even longer time since he’d had bruises that came along with pleasant memories.

Still damp and mouth tingling with mint, Tony dug through his dresser for a clean pair of underwear. He stopped with a pair of black briefs in hand and bent down to pick up his boxers from the night before. Steve was probably going to think he ran around in silk boxers all the time. Considering the look on Steve’s face, Tony almost wished that he _could_ run around in silk boxers all the time, but the chaffing in the Iron Man suit would be horrendous. He dropped the boxers in the laundry hamper and flopped onto the bed long enough to pull the cotton briefs on.

Tony just about jumped out of his skin when his bedroom door creaked open. Steve slipped in sideways with a coffee cup in either hand and nudged the door shut with his hip. He was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and an Army t-shirt with his dog tags outlined beneath the thin fabric. He looked oddly guilty when he turned to find Tony sitting on the bed.

“Captain America, sneaking into my room at sunrise?” Tony asked, feigning shock to cover his actual shock, “Whatever will our teammates think?”

Steve smiled, but he didn’t move away from the door. “I was quiet, and the downstairs is deserted. No one saw me, I promise.”

Tony rose from the bed to meet him. He reached for one of the cups. “I could get used to this.”

Steve pulled the coffee cups out of his reach and greeted Tony with a deep kiss. “Me too.” Rather than handing the cup over, Steve gave him another kiss, and then another to his cheek, and another to the hollow of his jaw just beneath his left ear.

Shivering as much from the pleasure of it as the contrast of Steve’s astonishing heat against his shower-chilled skin, Tony pulled back just enough to leave a feather light kiss on Steve’s nose. “Don’t tease me before noon, it’s not healthy.”

Rather than giving him the cup, Steve set them both on Tony’s desk and tugged his shirt over his head. Tony hadn’t thought there was anything that could distract him from coffee in the morning, but a nearly naked Steve Rogers did it just fine. He reached out to put his hands on Steve’s warm skin, but Steve waylaid him with the shirt. While Tony stood there, stupefied, Steve pushed the skin-warmed t-shirt over his head and smoothed it down his sides.

“You looked cold,” he explained, but there was a definite air of Smug around him.

Tony sensed that Steve liked putting a mark of ownership, no matter how subtle, on him. He brushed his hand down the Army logo on the front. Laughing, Tony backed up against the desk and jumped up to sit on the edge. He commandeered one of the cups – Captain Marvel, nice – and let the ridiculous (and entirely flattering, heartwarming, butterflies in the stomach adorable) Iron Man mug on the desk for Steve. They all had mugs in the cupboard, accumulated over the years as gag gifts. Jan had given both Tony and Iron Man an Iron Man mug the previous Christmas, though Iron Man’s had a picture of the armor in a green elf hat. The mug Steve had brought was the one given to Tony, the entire cup designed to look like the Iron Man helmet. Looking very lovely in his half-naked state, Steve reached past Tony for the Iron Man mug, but stayed where he was once he had it in his hand. Tony opened his knees to let Steve slide in between them.

Steve took a sip of his coffee and ran his fingers idly around the rim of the mug. “Tony?” He gave Tony a shy look. “In the interests of full disclosure, I have something to tell you.”

Tony got the nasty feeling that the other shoe was about to drop. After last night’s confession, Steve’s apparent elation, rolling around in Tony’s silk sheets, he was about to be kicked off the team. He could practically hear Steve’s next words: _I still want to be friends, and I really like you, but we can’t have you on the team anymore. Your heart, your age. Your wallet is too important._

Trying not to look too disappointed, Tony waited for the death toll.

“I’ve… kind of had a little crush on Iron Man for a long time,” Steve said in rush.

The laughter was startled out of Tony so suddenly that he probably would have choked and died if he’d had anything in his mouth at the time. Steve’s face glowed bright red and he ducked his head, free hand going the back of his skull and scratching at the short hair there. Tony put a hand on his shoulder before he could explode from embarrassment.

“Well,” Tony said teasingly, “Iron Man _is_ very sexy.”

Steve laughed uncomfortably. “You don’t think that’s weird?”

“Hey, I’ve had a little crush on the armor myself. If you don’t think I designed it to be at least a little bit sexy, you don’t know me very well.” He slid his hand under Steve’s dog tags where they rested on his naked chest. “In the interest of full disclosure,” he said, “I guess I should admit that I’ve had a little crush on Captain America.” He held up his finger and thumb with about a quarter inch between them. “For a lot longer than you would probably be comfortable with.”

Steve laughed and leaned forward to press their lips together. Their coffee cups clinked together and Steve pulled away with an embarrassed chuckle. Being the adorable dork that he was, he rubbed his nose across Tony’s in an affectionate nuzzle.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Tony asked quietly. “Me, I mean? With the Avengers, and… well. Me?”

Steve set his coffee cup on the desk and then reached up and slid his dog tags over his head. He dropped them around Tony’s neck, kissed his cheek, and said, “I am so okay with this.”

He picked his cup back up and they stood there like the sappy idiots they were, Tony wearing half of Steve’s clothing, and Steve wearing a goofy smile. They might have stayed like that all day, but Tony’s phone blared out Metallica, and he nearly soaked himself and Steve both in hot coffee getting off the desk and across the room. It was Abe Zimmer’s ringtone, and Tony had been waiting to hear back from him for days.

“Sorry,” Tony tossed over his shoulder, sliding the cup to the bedside table and flipping his phone over. “Abe, tell me you have good news.”

“I think I found your information,” Abe said obligingly. Tony heard him taking a deep drag of his perpetual e-cigarette and waited for him to exhale. “Want to come down to the lab so we can go over it?”

Tony wanted to demand the information immediately, but if a hacker had gotten into his secure server at SI, someone could be tapping the phones. “Sure, Abe, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Sounds important,” Steve noted after Tony had ended the call and put his phone back on the table.

Abandoning the bed for the closet, Tony said, “Very important.” He came back out with a blazer and a pair of slacks, and tossed them onto the bed. He stepped back up to Steve, who’d turned around to lean on the desk. Tony put his hands on Steve’s hips and dipped his thumbs under the waistband of the sweat pants. He put on what he hoped was a coy look and said, “I will go take care of that, then I’ll go slip on my _other_ other suit, and see you later.”

Steve made an appreciative noise and pushed away from the desk. “I guess I better get out of your hair then.”

“Yup,” Tony said cheerfully, reaching around him to deliver a light smack to his sweat-pant clad ass. “Or I will never get out of here, and that might be embarrassing for us both later.” He reached up to take off the dog tags, but Steve put a hand over them to hold them down.

“Keep them for a while,” he said softly, ducking down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’ll be sneaky getting out of here, I promise. Have a good day at work.”

“I don’t suppose I can watch you being sneaky?” Tony asked as Steve gathered up his mug and slid toward the door.

“That would defeat the purpose,” Steve pointed out, but he winked at Tony over his shoulder, and then poked his head out the door as carefully as if they were on a mission in enemy territory. Tony resisted the urge to smack him on the ass on the way out, and watched as Steve slipped into the hall and darted across to his own room.

It was kind of cute that Steve was going to such pains to hide their fledgling new relationship, though Tony wasn’t opposed to letting the other Avengers know. It might be too much to ask for Steve to keep Iron Man’s identity secret while also being in an open relationship with Tony Stark, and having to remember when to keep his hands to himself. With a slow, sinking feeling in his gut, Tony realized that he would have to come clean to the other Avengers soon if he wanted to keep Steve. Maintaining two lives was already hard enough, trying to fit in a third and asking Steve to go to the same drastic measures would be too much.

“Hacker first,” Tony told himself. “Once that crisis is out of the way… confession time.”

Even as he said it, he knew that it was stupid. As soon as the hacker crisis was out of the way, there would be another crisis, and then another, and another. Tony knew that none of the Avengers would ever spill his secret, but it would get out, and as soon as it got out, SI became an even bigger target for the Avengers’ enemies, and the Avengers became an even bigger target for SI’s enemies.

Pressing his thumbs into his temples, Tony asked himself, “What the hell are you thinking?”

~*~

“Alright, Abe, point me in the right direction,” Tony said as he stepped into the lab. He could hear Abe puffing away on his e-cigarette, but the air was clean of any toxic scents. Abe was brilliant, but unwilling to be parted from his nicotine, even for a few hours, and even if it meant being isolated from the rest of the employees. As a compromise, he’d switched to e-cigarettes, and Tony had designed the air circulation in the room to scrub out toxins. It ended up being the prototype for a circulation system he eventually sold to NASA.

Abe put his e-cig down on a completely useless ashtray and blew out a breath of water vapor. The area filled briefly with a fake blueberry scent, and then filtration vent right over his head sucked it away. He gestured to his computer. “Simple, Incorporated.”

“…Simple, Incorporated?” Tony rubbed at his forehead. “That was the best they could come up with?”

Abe shrugged. “I didn’t name the place. The CEO is one of your biggest fans, according to this local news interview he gave about a year ago. It’s a small technology start up, has been around for three years. They don’t do anything too impressive. Looks like their highest grossing product is an imaging system they sold to the military, and even that is nothing to write home about.”

“So how did this _nothing too impressive_ tech start up break past _my_ firewall?” Tony asked, leaning over Abe’s shoulder to look over the results. Lucas Williams was a bland looking man in his middle-thirties with dark blond hair and round glasses perched on his nose. The information Abe had pulled up on him was just as unimpressive as his company’s track record. A Masters in IT from Sacramento State, had lived on the west coast most of his life, but had moved to New York just before starting Simple, Inc. He had a modest stock profile, his finances were nothing spectacular, and there were no red flags on any of his bank accounts, no unusually large sums going in or out. He was single, no children, and had no academic papers published that Abe had found.

“This guy is about as boring as a piece of Wonderbread. Are you sure it was him? Maybe someone used his company as a front to launch the attack?”

Abe shrugged. “Maybe. All I know is that’s where the stolen files ended up. You want me to take them back?”

Tony hesitated. “Wait for a little while longer. Let’s keep tabs on this guy and his company, see if they do anything with the information they’ve stolen. Keep an eye on all the financials, make sure there aren’t any bounties that come in or go out. I can’t imagine anything nefarious they could be doing with half the plans to a lithium battery, but if it looks like it’s going that way, kill it.”

“Kill what?” Abe asked.

“The whole system. Crash the servers and make sure not one word of those plans leaves their hands.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Abe picked his e-cigarette up and took a deep drag of it. He emptied his lungs of the vapor and set it back down. “I’m guessing you want me to let you know if they get up to anything hinky.”

Tony gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. “You’ve got it.” He checked his phone display. “I’ve got a meeting to get to. Thanks for figuring this out for me, Abe.”

“Anytime,” Abe said blithely.

Tony got back in the elevator and checked his phone again. He had just enough time to get home, get to the workshop, and change before the Avenger’s meeting. On his way to Abe’s office, he’d been pulled aside three times to approve various projects, pulled into a meeting with the R&D team for an update on the battery, which was still going to be about three weeks late, and sat down by Mrs. Abrogast to sign paperwork he’d been dodging. He was going to be cutting it close.

~*~

Tony took the garage access directly to the workshop so he wouldn’t have to make any excuses to the Avengers, and then make additional excuses when Iron Man showed up late to the meeting. He did a cursory check to make sure the workshop space was empty, and then opened his briefcase and stripped out of his business suit down to his briefs and Steve’s Army shirt. He put his hand over the dog tags for a moment, just to feel the shape of them, smiling stupidly.

The alarm on his phone went off, letting him know that he had five minutes to get into the suit and upstairs. Tony hurried the rest of the suit on, and got in the elevator for the short trip up to the main floor. He saw Clint building himself a mountain of sandwiches as he passed the kitchen to the situation room. Jan and Thor were already seated at the table, but before Tony could get to his own specially-reinforced chair, Steve caught him at the door and pulled him aside.

“Can I talk to you after the meeting, Iron Man?” he asked softly, looking anxious.

Expression hidden by the faceplate, Tony smirked. “Sure thing, Winghead. There’s been something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, too.” He couldn’t make his invitation any more suggestive without being blunt, but added in, “Somewhere private then?”

Steve blinked at him, maybe scandalized by the idea of daytime sex, or that Tony was inviting him for daytime sex in front of their teammates. He nodded. “The library?”

Or maybe he was just amazingly kinky. Tony brightened up. He was going to need to make a detour to his room for a little wardrobe change. “Sounds stimulating.”

Steve chuckled and buffed his knuckles lightly across Tony’s bicep as he turned away and took his own seat. Tony tugged the heavy steel-reinforced chair out from the table and lowered himself into it just as Clint ambled in with what looked like an entire loaf of bread piled on his plate and a glass of milk.

“Do you eat anything other than sandwiches?” Tony asked, awed by the sheer number of calories on the plate, not to mention the _carbs_. He had no idea how even Clint burned enough energy to put away that many fatty bologna sandwiches on a regular basis, and still have the washboard-abs thing going for him.

“Sure,” Clint said through a full mouth. “I eat like… an entire chicken and a whole vegetable garden every day. This is just a snack.”

“Just a snack,” Jan said, shaking her head. She exchanged a look with Tony like she was reading his mind. “Men,” she groaned.

“I’m calling this meeting to order,” Steve said after waiting a polite moment to make sure the brief conversation had concluded. “Jan, do you want to go over the minutes from last month?”

~*~

Tony dragged his fingers lightly over the edge of the small table where he and Steve played chess when they were both in the mansion. More than anywhere else, the library was the center of his and Steve’s friendship. After Steve first moved in and Tony was experimenting with the notion of Iron Man being visible at the mansion, they’d started running into each other during late night spells of insomnia. The first few times Tony had poked his head into the library to see Steve sitting on the couch staring off into nothing, he’d quietly crept away. Finally, Steve had turned on the couch and invited him to come in.

After that, it developed into a sort of routine for them on quiet nights when they were both having trouble sleeping – Tony would suit up and find Steve on the library couch, they would play a game or three of chess, and part ways. The friendship had snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking, and he’d been startled the first time it occurred to him that he knew almost as much about Steve as he did about Rhodey. At least he’d realized it before the first time Steve referred to Iron Man as his best friend, and he didn’t choke – too loudly – on the announcement.

“Shellhead?” Steve called softly as he slid into the room and closed the door behind them.

Tony turned and cocked one hip as if he was leaning on the table, though he didn’t commit any weight to it. Steve stood nervously in front of the door, and Tony thought about how to approach him. He’d been alright kissing in the middle of the park the night before, but that had been in the dark, with no one around. Tony had taken the precaution of closing the blinds, but he wasn’t sure if he should lean around Steve and lock the door. Either way was stupidly risky – they lived in a houseful of people who were only too happy to pick locks or break the doors they were attached to if they wanted to be somewhere. Thor might not even notice that the door had been locked if he twisted hard enough.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Steve said, thrusting his chin out the way he did when he was in _no, you move_ mode.

Tony moved away from the table and stepped around the couch. “What might that be?” he asked, not entirely sure if this was an introduction to ‘ _I’ve always wanted to have sex in public and the fear of being caught really turns me on,’_ or ‘ _I’ve given it some thought and maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.’_

“I’m not sure how to say this, but you’re my best friend, so I wanted you to know.” He took a deep breath. “I slept with your boss last night.”

Tony stifled a laugh hard. “Oh, really?” he asked. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d fantasized about role playing Iron Man and Captain America, usually right there in the library. Thought since they _were_ Iron Man and Captain America, it wasn’t exactly role playing. Still, if Steve wanted to play, Tony was happy to oblige. “Are you planning on sleeping with him again?” he asked.

“Yes,” Steve answered automatically, and then blushed faintly under his cowl. “If he’ll have me.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’ll have you,” Tony supplied. “Definitely.”

Steve let out a relieved sigh, and then smiled sheepishly. “He talks to you about me?”

“All the time, can’t keep his mouth shut about you.” Tony grinned. “It’s a wonder he lasted this long without jumping you.”

Clearing his throat and ducking his head to hide the bright blush, Steve asked, “So you don’t mind? About me and your boss?”

Putting a touch of a leer into his voice that might or might not carry through the vocal processors, Tony said, “I’m sure I could be persuaded not to mind.” When Steve just blinked at him, he prompted, “Are you going to give me any details.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “A gentleman never kisses and tells, Shellhead,” he said severely.

“Oh, but you can tell me,” Tony pointed out. Maybe this wasn’t going to be sex in a semi-public place, but just very frustrating foreplay that would wind Tony up – which was never comfortable in the suit, but he could put it up with it for Steve. He tried to imagine Steve narrating the night before and just about exploded on the spot.

“I think Tony would murder me in my sleep if he found out I was discussing his sex life with one of his employees.”

“I really don’t think he would mind, Winghead.”

Steve tilted his head. “You know, it’s funny,” he said thoughtfully, “Tony has been calling me that lately. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him call me that before last night.”

Tony frowned, wrong-footed by the abrupt change in tone as Steve’s posture shifted. As he watched Steve’s expression turn puzzled, Tony started to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. He straightened up.

“You two really do talk about me, don’t you?”

“Are we playing right now, Steve? Because I’m not completely sure what we’re talking about. Are we on the same page?”

Steve looked offended. “I wouldn’t joke about this, Iron Man. You’re my best friend, and Tony is very special to me, but I want to make sure that this isn’t going to impact our friendship or our working relationship.”

Safely hidden by his faceplate, Tony’s eyes went wide. Panic spiraled out from his gut and made his fingers go cold and his mouth abruptly dry out. Steve didn’t _know_. All that time the night before when Tony had been so sure he’d been caught, when he’d thought he’d made the biggest confession of his life, Steve had been hearing something else. He felt sick to his stomach. He never should have slept with Steve, never should have even touched him without spelling everything out and checking for understanding. He was such an idiot! Four words was all he would have needed to make sure Steve understood him – _I am Iron Man_ – and he’d been too much of a coward to just say it.

“Steve,” Tony hurried, almost frantic to right his mistake, “I think there’s been a mis –”

The door pushed open abruptly, shoving knocking Steve right into Tony’s chest. Clint poked his head through the opening. “Sorry,” he said with a slight wince. “Steve, come on. You’re late – we were going to do some tumbling.”

Steve checked his watch and cursed under his breath. “Right, Clint, sorry. I’m right behind you.”

Clint left the door open, and Steve turned for it automatically. Tony’s mouth worked soundlessly, but before he could call Steve back, or rip off the helmet and _show him_ , Steve was halfway out the door.

“Can we pick this up later? I’m really sorry, I hate to leave you in the middle of a conversation like this, but I promised Clint, and I’ve been putting him off for a week. Are we okay?” he asked, stopping and facing Tony with a serious look, his eyebrows pulled up slightly in concern, hand tight on the edge of the door with obvious anxiety. He was worried that his best friend was going to abandon him because he was sleeping with said best friend’s boss. What a freaking mess.

“Yes,” Tony fumbled, “Steve –”

“Thanks, Shellhead. As soon as Clint and I are done with tumbling practice, I’ll come find you.” He lift his hand from the doorknob in a wave, and then was gone.

Tony stared after him, slack-jawed, long after his footsteps had faded.

~*~

Tony brushed off a meeting at SI to sit anxiously in the workshop and wait for Steve to get done with tumbling practice. There was no reason for him not to take the meeting – it was virtual, and all he would have had to do was strip out of the armor, put his business suit back on, and tell Steve that Iron Man had just stepped out, he’d be around later. He would have done exactly that if he didn’t have what was bound to be a painful and awkward conversation hanging over his head.

How was he supposed to convince Steve that he hadn’t been withholding that information, he’d just thought Steve had already known? He couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t sound like a weak excuse to get into Steve’s pants without consequences, and how was he supposed to explain ‘playing along’ as Iron Man while Steve made what Tony could now see was a terrifying confession? He wouldn’t blame Steve for a second if he stormed out of the mansion and never spoke to Tony again after this debacle. It was bad enough that Tony had been hiding his identity for so long in the first place, letting Steve believe that Iron Man had some debilitating health issue that prevented him from removing the armor, sitting across a hundred chess games while Steve divulged private information that he might have never told to _Tony_. He should have known that last night was too good to be true, and he shouldn’t have been such a goddamned coward.

“Stupid,” he told himself, leaning forward to gently smack the Iron Man helmet on his desk. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“You down here, Shellhead?”

Tony shot to his feet. He thought about just taking the helmet off and letting Steve him for what he really was, but that would be another cruelty, another bout of cowardice. He needed to sit Steve and say what he should have the night before: “Steve, I am Iron Man, and I am _definitely_ in love with you.” He’d also need to add in about three and half metric tons of groveling for the night before, which took on a thoroughly creepy light with the added aspect of Steve not knowing who he was in bed with.

“Steve,” he greeted, standing awkwardly in the middle of the workshop. His tongue seemed to swell and he suddenly couldn’t just get the damn words out. “How was tumbling?” he blurted.

“Good. It’s sometimes a little scary to think what someone like Clint would be capable of with the serum. I learned how to fight the old fashioned way, but if I’d had the kind of abilities he does before the serum?” Steve shook his head, but offered Tony a smile. “I just wanted to check in, and make sure everything is okay from our earlier conversation. I swear, I wasn’t playing a practical joke on you, and I’d like to know how you really feel about it.”

“That’s the thing, Steve,” Tony started, but before he got any further, the elevator door pinged open and Jan spilled out.

“Iron Man!” she gasped. “I need your help.” She dropped forward to put her hands on her knees and took in deep breaths. “Thor is. Trapped. Under my bowling ball.”

Tony sputtered. It was absolutely not the time for a joke. “ _What?_ Did you just say that _Thor_ was trapped under a _bowling ball_?”

She straightened up, putting one hand against her side and curling around it. “I may have… accidentally, sort of… made it really really big?”

“So tell him to push it off,” Tony exclaimed impatiently. “It’s _Thor_.”

She glared at him. “It’s my lucky ball. I told him he’s not allowed to break it, or break anything else with it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “So make it small again.”

“Well, I already tried that, and it kind of just got bigger. There might have been a labeling mix-up,” Jan said sheepishly.

Steve ran a hand roughly through his hair, and said, “We’d best go help, Iron Man. We can talk later.”

Tony made a frustrated noise. He didn’t want to talk later, he wanted to get this taken care of before it became any bigger of a problem. “I really need to talk to you, Steve.”

“As soon as we get Thor out from under the giant bowling ball,” Steve said with a crooked smile. “I would have never thought that was something I would say.” He made a gesture to the elevator, nudging Jan back in. He held his hand over the sensor. “You coming?”

Tony wanted to scream, but he nodded and followed Steve into the elevator. Jan stood quietly in the middle of the car on the ride up, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Tony could see her eyes flickering between them in the polished doors, and the tension in the elevator car sky rocketed with each passing second. Tony tried to keep his impatience down to a low simmer when he realized that Steve was starting to look worried. He probably thought that Iron Man did not have nice things to say now that he knew their earlier conversation hadn’t been a joke, and Tony had no way to let him know that it wasn’t the case with Jan tapping her foot nervously three inches away.

The elevator doors pinged open, and they rushed out. Jan lead through the kitchen and into the backyard, where Thor’s blond head could just barely be seen under a bowling ball that had to be at least fifteen feet in diameter.

“How?” Tony asked numbly while Steve rushed over to make sure Thor was alright.

“I told you,” Jan said, voice getting mulish. “A mislabeling incident.”

“I am quite well, Captain,” Thor reassured Steve cheerfully. “In truth, the weight is of little consequence, and Mjolnir has prevented me from sustaining any damage. Were it not for Lady Wasp’s desire that no harm comes to the surrounding garden, I could have pushed it off myself.”

“Are you balancing that?” Tony asked, when he realized that Thor’s arms and raised knees had to be working as a stand to keep the massive ball from rolling away and crushing the nearby fountain and flower beds.

“Indeed,” Thor said smugly.

Steve walked slowly around the oversized bowling ball, and then turned to look at the surrounding gardens. “I think we’re somehow going to have to get the ball over his head and roll it down the hill that way.” He pointed at the slight slope leading out to the lawn. In every other direction, they wouldn’t have enough room to move the ball without crushing a statue or a hedge.

“What manner of mess is this?” Jarvis asked calmly, stepping out of the kitchen door with a tray in hand. He had a pitcher of lemonade in the center with glasses filled with ice arranged around it. “Mister Thor, are you well?”

“I am, friend Jarvis. Thank you for your concern,” Thor answered easily.

Jarvis set the tray down on a small table and gave them a dubious look. “Do not crush the garden, please.”

“We will do our best,” Steve promised. He tossed Jarvis a salute and then put one hand on the bowling ball’s smooth surface.

Jarvis cast one last disapproving look at the mess they’d already made of the lawn, and went back inside. Tony tapped his fingers lightly on the side of the helmet and tried to figure out how to move the giant bowling ball over Thor’s head without crushing his head in the meantime, and also without sending the ball bouncing dangerously down the hill. There was a fair amount of lawn between the house and the street, but a ball that size would break right through the fence, and roll down the street like Harrison Ford’s worst nightmare.

“If we dig out underneath his head and shoulders, he can lean his head back and we can direct the bowling ball over the top of him?” Steve suggested, looking up at Tony.

“I would be able to pass the ball over my head thusly,” Thor confirmed. “I could lift it directly over my head now if you wish.”

“Let’s not take any more risks that necessary,” Tony hurried, holding his hands out before Thor decided to just throw the ball. “Are you having any trouble holding it?”

“None at all,” Thor said easily. “Nonetheless, I would like to have it removed sooner rather than later. I am missing ‘The Young and the Restless’ and do not yet know who is the father of Rachel’s baby.”

Deciding to ignore the comment and not contemplate the response if he published Thor’s soap opera obsession on Twitter, Tony walked around the bowling ball himself, and calculated the angle of the slope into the yard. Once it was clear of Thor’s hold, they would have only seconds to stop its momentum and lead it safely down the hill to level ground. He held up a repulsor and scorched a section of the lawn.

“Steve, I need you to dig out a hole right there, at least four feet across and two feet deep for safety. Make the sides shallower than the base,” Tony said, and then turned around. “I’m going to go get some supplies out of the workshop for braces. Hold on, Thor. Shout if it gets too heavy for you.”

Thor laughed. “As you like, Iron Man.”

Trying not to let his rolled eyes show through in his voice, Tony said, “Jan, carefully dig out under our friend’s head. Just in case.”

“On it!” Jan said, and jogged off toward the garden shed.

By the time Tony made it out of the workshop, Jan had dug out a hole underneath Thor’s head and shoulders, and he was finally showing a little strain as he curled upwards to keep a grip on the ball. Tony set the hastily padded end of a pole against the ball and anchored the other side into the grass. Jarvis would not be pleased about the holes in his garden, but better a few holes in the garden than a smashed garden. Or a smashed Thor, for that matter. He set up two others to take the weight of the ball off of Thor’s arms, and then aimed his repulsors at the ground to cut a channel down the hill to Steve’s hole.

“Okay, Thor, I’m going to take the struts away and use them as a guide to get the ball moving down the hill. Steve, you and I are going to have to play brakes to get it into position without letting it roll into the street, and hopefully not become pancakes in the process. Jan, I’ll need you to grab the struts as soon as the ball is out of the way. We’ll need them in a minute.”

“I will assist as well, once I am free of the weight,” Thor offered graciously.

Tony pulled the braces away and set them against the edge of the hole Jan had dug out. Steve took up position on the opposite side of the struts. Tony counted to three, and Thor pushed the ball up and moved it over his head – yet another thing he could be putting on YouTube, except there were a lot of stupid people out there who might try a similar stunt and get their faces flattened in the process. Physics eventually got the better of even Thor’s strength, and the ball slipped out of his hands and fell into the makeshift trench. Tony shoved his shoulder into it, maneuvering thrusters firing to keep from losing control of the massive weight, and struggled to keep it on track as gravity pulled it down the hill.

“I don’t think I made that hole large enough!” Steve shouted as they started moving faster and faster, digging trenches with their feet as the weight pushed them forward.

Tony just saw Thor as he leapt from the depression and flew over the top of them, Mjolnir whirling above his head. He landed in the ball’s path, and probably could have just smashed it to powder with one swing of his hammer, but at Jan’s shouted reminder not to break it, turned his shoulder into it instead. Unbreakable object meets immovable force was not precisely the result. The bowling ball smacked into him, drove him back several feet, and tried to roll over him. Tony threw himself out from under the ball and into the air. A gentle shove from the repulsor forced the ball back down, and it landed in Steve’s hole with a loud _boom_ , sending dirt and grass flying.

“Well,” Tony said, landing, “that went better than I expected. Why couldn’t we just blow it up?” he asked Jan.

“It’s my favorite,” she answered, and then gestured around at all the damage. “I am going to fix all of this. Sorry?”

“How did this even happen? I know, mislabeling. What possessed you to try to change the size of the thing in the first place?”

“That is my fault, Iron Man,” Thor interjected. “The Wasp was attempting to teach me this game called ‘bowling.’ After I told her that the ball was far too light, she attempted to accommodate my needs by increasing the size and weight.”

“And just… increased it a little too much,” Jan finished. She held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate how ‘little’ the mistake had been.

Steve laughed indulgently while Tony just sunk the braces into the ground around the ball to keep it stable. He would have to construct something more secure before something catastrophic happened and it ended up crushing a minivan. He stepped back to look up at it, hands on hips. “What are we even going to do with this?”

“Until I get it back to the right size, just tell people it’s modern art,” Jan suggested cheerfully.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” Clint asked, ambling out of the kitchen with an apple. “Cool, uh… bowling ball?”

~*~

Tony left Jan trying to repair the yard. “Steve, can we have that talk now?” he asked, curling his fingers imploringly.

“Of course, Iron Man,” Steve said, firming up his shoulders. He rose from the crouch where he’d been inspecting the damage to the corner of a flower bed, and faced Tony with a look of grim determination. He pulled his gloves off and tucked them into his belt as he followed Tony through the kitchen and back into the library.

“Before we get interrupted again, there is something I _really_ need to tell you,” Tony hurried. “Steve –”

Both of their cards went off with shrill alarms, making Steve jump as he fumbled for his belt. A moment later, the mansion’s alarms went off as well, small LED lights set in the ceiling flashing red.

“For fuck’s sake!” Tony snarled. He reached for his helmet, but Steve was already turning for the door.

“Later, Iron Man. We need to go,” Steve said over his shoulder. He broke into a run, headed for the situation room.

Tony followed after him with a string of heated curses. He considered the merits of just taking his helmet off and announcing his identity to the entire team, but he didn’t know what the call was for. Dropping that kind of bombshell on his team minutes before they flew off into danger would be reckless. Tony clenched his teeth and turned the last corner into the situation room. Clint was at the head of the table with the projector up.

“We just received this call,” he said as soon as everyone was in the room. He put his purple glasses up on top of his head to look down at the remote and pointed it at the screen rather than the projector while he was pushing buttons.

Tony suppressed a sigh, but the playback started just as Tony got a priority call from SI on his internal line.

“Really?” he muttered with the exterior speakers turned off. Anything other than a priority call, and he would have ignored it in favor of listening into the mission brief, but only a few employees had access to priority codes, and those were only to be used in extreme emergencies of the life-or-death variety.

“Mr. Stark, we have a problem at the office,” Mrs. Abrogast announced immediate once the call had been connected. “Someone broke into R&D and they’re holding the employees hostage. They’re demanding the reactor tech, or they’re going to blow the whole compound. The _gentleman_ I talked to said he had explosives planted at the main reactor.”

“Thank you for the call, Mrs. Abrogast,” Tony said, holding in a string of profanity. “Iron Man will be there as soon as he can.”

She hung up without any frivolous goodbyes or pleas for help. Among her many other qualifications, Tony loved Mrs. Abrogast for her unshakeable calm under pressure, and made a mental note to get her another raise.

“Iron Man, are you in there?” Steve asked. Clint threw a wadded up piece of paper at his head. It hit his helmet and bounced away, landing on the table and rolling across to Jan.

Tony stood up sharply. He pointed at the screen. “Play that again.”

“We just –”

“Play it again!” Tony interrupted.

Clint obliging pointed the remote at the screen once more and played through the recording. Jarvis’ voice played first, his standard greeting. When the man on the other end of the line demanded to speak with Iron Man, Jarvis informed him that there was a public tip line he could call to speak with the Avengers, and Stark Manor was certainly not the correct number. He started to hang up, but a gunshot and a feminine scream stopped him.

“One moment, please,” Jarvis said stiffly.

After a brief pause, Clint’s voice asked, “Who the hell is this?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Steve put a hand over his forehead. They were going to have to do negotiating training again. There were reasons that Clint wasn’t allowed to talk to the bad guys.

“I am the man holding Mr. Stark’s precious employees at gunpoint,” the man snarled. “Since Mr. Stark doesn’t feel the need to be in his office during business hours, I thought I would just get in touch with his bodyguard. I want the plans to the arc reactor, and I want them right now. If Mr. Stark or his representative isn’t here in the next thirty minutes to give them to me, I’m going to start killing people. And no funny business!” he warned. “I’ve got the main reactor rigged to blow, and I’m not afraid to die. Your thirty minutes starts now.”

The call ended before Clint could get another word in edgewise, and Tony noticed a timer on the wall at 24:22.

Tony clenched his teeth, again considered the merits of just revealing his identity, but finally said, “I’m not sending Mr. Stark in there.”

“Of course not,” Steve agreed immediately. “But we’re going to need to get in there. How much do you know about the main reactor?”

Suppressing the hysterical laughter Tony could feel in his chest, he said, “Enough to disarm whatever this sloppy asshole can throw at it.”

“Good. You get to the reactor room, the rest of us will get into R&D and see if we can disarm the… sloppy asshole. You’ll be able to get there faster on your own, so we’ll meet you on the premises.”

Tony nodded distractedly and plotted himself a course back to the office. He was already accessing the reactor core remotely. If he could shut the reactor down, he might be able to put a stop to the whole thing before he even got there. If the would-be thief was planning to use the reactor to supplement the explosive power of whatever he had on hand, shutting it down would mean he just had to deal with the explosives themselves.

Once he was in the air, Tony took the calculated risk of calling Abe. His office was completely isolated from R&D, and it was possible that could go unnoticed. The phone rang three times, and then Abe picked up.

“Sir?” he whispered.

“Are you safe?” Tony asked immediately. He’d called on Abe’s cell, and he didn’t want to give the man away if he was hiding somewhere quiet.

“Yeah. I’m in my office, and I’ve already locked down the lab. Bastard won’t be able to get in here with anything less than a few pounds of C-4 and an excavator. So far he hasn’t noticed. It’s Lucas Williams.”

Tony had known that it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that someone broke into his building days after a major hack had gotten past his firewall, but he still cussed. “The CEO of Simple, Inc?”

“One and the same. Guy is a piece of work. I’m assuming Iron Man is on the way?” Abe asked dryly.

Tony had never specifically told Abe that he was Iron Man, but he was all but positive that the man had figured out. Then again, Tony’s ‘people who know my secret identity’ radar had obviously been malfunctioning lately.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “I’ve already started the shut-down process on the reactor remotely. Has he hurt anyone?”

“Not that I know of,” Abe said. Tony could hear fabric sliding across carpet and guessed that Abe was crawling over to the window that looked out into the rest of the R&D floor. “He did fire a gun into the ceiling though, so who knows. From what I can tell everyone is just sitting against the inside wall. Seem to be handling it pretty well.”

Tony hadn’t expected anything less. Because of the connection to Iron Man, not to mention Tony himself being a big enough target, his employees all got regular training on handling hostage situations. He wasn’t worried about any of them doing anything stupid, and as long as protocol had been followed, there should have already been multiple silent alarms triggered that would have the police and a SWAT unit on site in minutes.

“Have you been able to get in touch with Rhodey?” Tony asked, dropping down to fly low over the street as he approached the SI compound. He had a secret entrance that would get him into the lower levels, but he didn’t know if Williams was working alone, as he seemed to be, or if he had buddies playing lookout.

“Not yet, but it’s the middle of the night in Japan,” Abe pointed out. “He might have his phone off.”

“Damnit, I forgot he was over there. Alright, leave him alone – there’s not much he can do from Tokyo anyway. If he calls, try to fill him and ask him to call me.”

“Will do, boss.”

Tony circled flew over the emergency services vehicles gathered around the front of the building, tossing a salute to the black-clad SWAT team as he did, and curved around to the back of the compound. The compound’s rear entrance required a retina scan, and encrypted passcode that could only come through the Iron Man armor. Even then, it dropped into a panic room in the basement that needed a handprint, and an additional three codes to get into the building itself. Tony took a moment to send a message to Steve to let him know he was in the building, and opened the wall panel.

Checking the security monitors before venturing out of the panic room, Tony crept out into the concrete hallways. He could have had a finished basement look, but the idea was that the area was supposed to look unimportant and unmonitored. The naked concrete walls and floors were broken up by tangles of pipes, and the entire area was a maze intended to get any hostiles lost. Blast doors could close off specific sections, and carefully hidden cameras kept everything under close surveillance. No one had tested his underground labyrinth yet, but Tony had a feeling it was only a matter of time. He made sure none of the cameras were facing him as he passed by, just in case the unexpectedly resourceful Lucas Williams had hacked into his security system.

He got into the reactor core through a trap door from the basement, and found it desserted. Warning bells were started to chime in the back of his mind as he quietly closed the door behind him. The reactor hummed, its usual brilliant blue lighting up the clean white surfaces of the reactor lab. He hadn’t expected to find any of his employees monitoring the reactor considering the threat, but had Williams managed to clear them out, set charges, and then still take over R&D all by himself? It seemed ludicrous that there weren’t at least some goons milling around the room with assault rifles, looking over confident as they sat on what had the potential to be as destructive as a nuclear warhead.

“What the hell is going on?” Tony muttered to himself as the last of the shutdown process completed and the reactor wound down over several seconds. He scanned the room, but he wasn’t picking up any explosives. “He was _bluffing_?”

Well, the guy had balls, Tony had to give him that. He might not have balls anymore by the time Tony was done with him, but it took some giant ones to waltz into Stark International and make threats with his arc reactor. Not only was he about to have the Avengers coming down on his ass like a hive of angry bees, but the authorities didn’t tend to respond so well to arc-reactor fueled pranks.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Tony whirled around, but all he saw was a bright yellow-gold beam of light, and then nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

The main SI building had been evacuated, and employees had been corralled into hastily erected tents off the premises. They were taking it pretty well for civilians, but then again, SI employees weren’t entirely civilians. There hadn’t been as many threats and issues as the media liked to suggest, but all of Tony’s employees had probably been through at least one bomb threat if not actual emergency situation. They were seated at long tables, talking to SHIELD agents and police while Mrs. Abrogast’s team checked them off of attendance rosters and verified their credentials. Steve was glad she was handling it – he probably would have just encouraged them all to go home, and not thought until later that maybe one or more them were bad guys.

Steve’s phone rang, and he checked the I.D. before answering. “Rhodes. I thought you were in Japan?”

“I am,” Rhodey answered.

Steve checked the time and then did the math. “Isn’t it three in the morning for you?”

“Just about,” Rhodey said. “I got a call from Abe Zimmer. He’s one of Tony’s eggheads in R&D. The man you’re dealing with is Lucas Williams. He’s the CEO of some small start-up that recently hacked SI servers and stole some data. Abe is secluded away from the rest, and as far as he can tell, it’s just Williams. He says he talked to Tony about twenty minutes ago, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with him.”

Frowning, Steve pushed away the spike of concern. “Iron Man probably sequestered him as soon as we heard of the threat. Iron Man was headed for the reactor, so I imagine Tony is walking him through shutting it down or something like that.”

“I’m sure,” Rhodey said dryly. “And have you heard from Iron Man?”

“Not since he got into the building, about five minutes ago. I don’t expect to hear back from him until he’s gotten the reactor situation under control.”

Rhodey grunted. “Alright. I’m going to send you Abe’s number. When you’re ready to go in, he can be your eyes inside. Is there anything I can do to help from here?”

“I don’t think so, Rhodes. Thanks for checking in, and I’ll let you know as soon as we get things wrapped up. Get in touch if you hear from Tony, alright?”

“Will do. Good luck, Rogers.”

The line disconnected, and Steve stared down at his phone for a moment before putting it away. He wanted to call Tony, but if Tony was in the middle of walking Iron Man through disarming a bomb or shutting down the reactor, Steve didn’t want to distract him. He took his phone back out and compromised by sending him a text message asking for an update. If Tony was able to talk, he would call. If not, he might have a moment to send a message back, otherwise, Steve was just going to have to wait.

Steve slid his phone back into its pouch and buckled it shut. He left his place in the corner of the tent sent up for the SI employees and wound through the emergency responders to the barricade set up in a partial circle outside the gates. He stopped next to the SWAT commander and waited for him to finish his phone conversation.

“I have eyes inside,” Steve explained, “And my team knows the building layout. We’re ready to go in with your cooperation.”

“Avengers do have priority with SI,” the commander said, but he didn’t sound happy about it. “I’ve already got the rest of your team wired into our communications network, and my team will go in on your heels. If you don’t mind,” he added reluctantly.

“Not at all. We’re not negotiators,” Steve said, trying not to be annoyed and reminding himself that he was the interloper. Their reception among law enforcement personnel tended to swing from hero worship to resentment, and Steve couldn’t exactly blame them considering how often collateral damage came along with Avenger involvement. Steve cleared his throat. “I have a man handling the reactor.”

“Same man who’s your eyes inside?” the commander asked. He finally turned to face Steve. Even in his boots, he was a small man – probably about 5’5” and packed with wiry muscle, with bright brown eyes and a clean shaven face. Steve recognized the belligerent jut of his jaw from his own days as the ‘little guy.’ His name tag said SHARD.

“No,” Steve answered, trying not to say something stupid like _you remind me of myself when I was younger._ “That would be Abe Zimmer, he’s one of Mr. Stark’s R &D employees.” He pulled his phone back out and swiped it open to Rhodey’s text, and then offered it to Sergeant Shard.

“I’m not sending my men in until that reactor is shut down and we had confirmation that there’s no danger,” Shard warned.

“Understandable. I’ll take my team in now and see what we can do. We’ll stay in touch with Iron Man and let you know as soon as it’s safe to come in after us. If that works for you?” he asked as an afterthought. Shard waved his agreement and walked off, already dialing Zimmer.

“Charming guy,” Clint observed stepping up to his elbow.

“We’re the one stepping on his toes,” Steve reminded him, and then said, “Let’s go. Jan, see if you can get Iron Man on the line for an update.”

They moved in through the front of the building. Steve went first with his shield out in front of him, Thor, Clint, and Jan spreading out in a V to his side. R&D was on the first subfloor, which was a blessing that meant they didn’t have to clear fourteen floors getting to the top. Steve’s Avenger card got them into the stairwell, and Thor and Clint flowed in front of him to clear up and down.

There were no surprises, and Steve started to get suspicious. Even if it was a small operation, it was strange that there were no guards in the stairwell. Clint and Thor reached the door to R&D ahead of Steve and Jan, and Thor immediately pulled his hammer back to smash it down.

“Hold it!” Steve called. He moved past Thor and slid his card through the reader. Clint started to tell him that it was stupid to try, but was interrupted by the indicator lights turning green and the door lock cycling. Steve gave him a significant look and he raised his eyebrows.

“ _This_ guy broke into SI?” he asked dubiously.

Steve privately agreed with him, but just motioned for quiet and waited for Clint to get his bow up and tugged the door open. Clint went in first and Steve darted in after him, clearing the opposite corner. They found a cluster of men and women in white lab coats against the inside wall, and Abe Zimmer crouched in the opposite corner with his hands zip-tied together and tape over his mouth.

Steve knelt next to him and pulled the tape away in a quick jerk. Zimmer winced, but stayed quiet. “Where’s Williams?” Steve asked quietly.

Zimmer jerked his chin to the partial open door to his lab space. Steve gestured Clint and Jan to it, and then unsheathed his knife and broke the zip-ties around his wrists and ankles. “Thor, get these people out of here.” He keyed into the SWAT network to let them know they had hostages on the way out.

“What the hell is this?” Clint asked, crouched next to the door opposite Jan. It was silent inside, and Steve couldn’t see any movement when he knelt down at Clint’s side.

“One man on some kind of crazy spree?” Jan suggested. “I’ll go in small and have a look around.”

“Any word yet from Iron Man?” Steve asked uneasily, holding a forestalling hand out.

Jan shook her head. “But he isn’t past check-in time yet, and he goes off comms like this sometimes when he’s working on something delicate,” she pointed out.

“What if this guy hied out of here because he’s started the count-down on those explosives?” Clint asked, catching onto Steve’s train of thought. “Maybe we should follow the hostages out.”

“But if he’s still down here, he could cause a lot trouble,” Jan argued. “Let me just take a look.”

Before Steve could say otherwise, she jammed her thumb over a button in her glove and seemed to just disappear. Steve made a soft noise of frustration under his breath and shifted to take her place as she zipped through the door into the lab. He nudged the door open a little further so he could see around the corner. He couldn’t see or hear any movement, and nothing seemed obviously out of place.

“Jan?”

The door swung open and Jan stood in front of them at her full height. “Empty. But where could he have gone? According to the plans Tony shared with us, there’s no other way in or out of this room.”

“I’ll be happy to show you.”

Steve spun around, but before he could even get his shield up, there was a blast of bright golden light, and his vision went spotty. He felt the impact with the floor as if through a thick layer of foam, and then the light faded.

~*~

When Steve came to, his mouth tasted like cinnamon-apples and ozone, and his eyes were gritty with sand. He lifted a hand to scrub across his face and worked his tongue uselessly over the roof of his mouth. It took a minute to work his eyes open, though it didn’t do him a ton of good since the room was completely dark.

“Hello?” he called out softly. His voice tripped over the word and he had to clear his throat before trying again. “Hello?”

“Cap?”

Steve sat up and turned toward the voice. “Jan? Are you alright?”

“I think so. There’s someone else here next to me… based on the biceps, I’m going to guess Clint. He’s not awake yet. What happened? All I remember is a bunch of bright light.”

Trying to clear out some of the fogginess, Steve shook his head. “Me too.” He sat up, and only then realized that he was naked down to his boxers and socks. “Uh… are you…?”

“Naked?” Jan supplied with a tinge of amusement. “Just my bra and panties. Guess you too?”

“Well,” Steve said, getting to his knees, “they took my bra away.”

Jan laughed softly, and Steve used the sound to hone in on her position. He crawled across what felt like a metal floor until his hand hit a warm arm. He squeezed once – definitely Clint. Jan’s hand found his a second later, patting across Clint’s chest to reach him. Steve squeezed her fingers gently, but didn’t let her go. He had no idea where they were, who was watching or listening, and he wasn’t about to get separated from his team.

“I don’t guess you’ve heard from Thor or Iron Man?”

He couldn’t see Jan shaking her head, but he could just barely hear the whisper of her hair across the top of her shoulders. “Thor was escorting the hostages out, and Iron Man was down in the reactor room. They might not have been captured.”

“Let’s hope so,” Steve said, looking around. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the gloom, he was able to make out the darker shape of Jan’s outline and get a sense of the dimensions of the room. It looked to be rectangular, maybe about the size of the living room back home. He scanned around them for any other dark shapes, but it looked like it was just three of them.

“Anyone get the number of that light show?” Clint grunted. He lifted his hands, inadvertently smacking into Steve’s thigh, and then said, “Whoa… not that I don’t love the kink as much the next guy, but I prefer to be awake for sexy shenanigans.”

“Like anyone would sexy-shenanigan you even if you were conscious,” Jan teased, shoving at his side. “Looks like whatever villain of the month we’ve encountered this time never read the manual.” She sighed dramatically and helped Clint to sit upright between them. Steve got an arm around him to keep him steady.

“Which manual would that be?” Steve asked, just to keep up the conversation.

“The one that says they’re not allowed to take us out of our uniforms. It’s just rude to unmask a masked hero, you know.”

“You don’t wear a mask,” Clint pointed out. “Neither do, and everyone knows who Cap is.”

“It’s still rude,” she grumbled.

Steve let them continue to chat as his eyes adjusted further and the room seemed to get lighter. It took several minutes for him to realize that the room wasn’t _seeming_ to get lighter, it actually _was_ getting lighter. He elbowed Clint, who just elbowed him back, and they waited tensely while the lights gradually came up. Steve guessed he should be grateful that whoever had grabbed them didn’t just flip the lights on and blind them.

“Nice to see you’re all awake,” a voice called down from the ceiling. “Please do not attempt escape. I don’t want to be forced to hurt you. As a gesture of good faith, I’ll be returning your teammate to you shortly.”

“Shit,” Clint said with feeling, but none of them asked who it was, just in case their mysterious captor wasn’t aware that he’d missed someone.

A moment later, a door opened low in the wall, and Tony rolled onto the floor with a muffled curse. Steve rushed over to his side and helped him sit up. Like the rest of them, he’d been stripped of his clothing down to Steve’s dog tags and a _very_ tiny pair of red panties. Steve’s mind whited out for a second while he processed it, and then he gave himself a firm mental kick and an order to think about it later – and _boy_ would he think about it later – when they weren’t both being held captive.

“Where did he get you, Tony? Were you on the compound?” Steve asked, checking him for injuries. He had a few bruises, but none of them looked serious.

Tony laughed. He covered his face with one hand and leaned his head back against Steve’s shoulder, and shook with his laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. He let out a very tired breath. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you all day, Winghead.”

Steve looked down at him in confusion. “All day? I haven’t seen you since this morning.”

“Right,” Tony coaxed, “And who’s been trying to talk to you all day?”

Steve couldn’t possibly be more shocked if Tony had literally shocked him. His jaw went slack, and he felt suddenly cold-hot all over. “Iron Man?” he whispered.

“Surprise?” Tony tried, spreading his hands. “I’m sorry, Steve, I really am. I thought you knew. On the balcony last night, I thought this was what we were talking about. I swear I tried to tell you as soon as I realized that you didn’t know.”

On the balcony. Steve had thought Tony was confessing to _liking_ him, and all along, Tony had been saying something completely different. He thought back over the conversation and where he could have missed that, but other than Tony suddenly calling him _Winghead_ , there had been nothing at all that sounded even remotely like, “ _You know your best friend Iron Man? That’s actually me.”_

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve hissed. “Why didn’t you just say it?”

“I thought you knew already,” Tony said defensively. “I thought I’d been found out, and I just… I couldn’t make myself say out loud, not after keeping this secret for almost a decade.”

“Can we discuss this later?” Clint interjected.

“No,” Tony said firmly. He pointed a finger at Clint. “Both of you already interrupted me today, so we can’t talk about it later.” He struggled out of Steve’s arms, sat up on his knees, and twisted around – his tiny panties were actually a thong, and that was almost enough to make Steve’s brain explode – he sat back roughly on his heels and met Steve’s eyes. “I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have,” Steve said, but cast a quick glance over to Jan and Clint, “But we can talk about this later, and we will. For now, let’s worry about getting out of here.”

Tony nodded miserably, but he stood up with Steve and turned a quick circle to survey their cell.

“Stark, can you maybe… just… God, I don’t know if it’s worse if you’re facing me, or turned away from me,” Clint whined.

Steve would have thrown something at him if he had anything on hand to throw, and almost stepped in between Tony and Clint to provide a buffer, but Tony probably wouldn’t appreciate it. He just crossed his arms over his chest and stood silently by as Jan elbowed Clint in the side and Tony said, “Deal with it, Barton.”

“Where were you when you woke up?” Jan asked, leaving Clint’s side to stand next to Tony. Their cell was four walls interrupted only by the cupboard-sized door that Tony had slid out of, floor and ceiling made out of the same material. There was no furniture, no bars, no windows.

“A coffin, near as I can tell,” Tony answered. His eyes went tight at the corners, and Steve couldn’t imagine how terrifying that must have been. “After I spent some time shouting, lights came on, and then I was sliding down into here. Anyone see who snagged us?”

Tony turned back around to face everyone. They all shook their heads.

Steve added, “All I saw was a bright light.”

They stood in a loose circle, silently assessing the odd situation they’d found themselves in. Before Steve could think of anything even beginning to resemble a plan, there was a crackle from the ceiling, and then a beam of golden light opened in the center of the room. A hologram of a richly-robed figure appeared in the light. He was outlandishly tall, and bigger across the chest than even Thor, and his robes were bright blue and green plaid that fell heavily to the floor, with a few pounds worth of golden chains draped over his shoulders. He had thick red hair that was plaited over his shoulders in two long braids, and a gaudy crown perched on his forehead.

“Your highness,” Tony greeted after several seconds of stunned silence. He sketched an elaborate bow and asked, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Without replying, the hologram stepped to one side and a hologram of the Iron Man suit appeared next to him. “Instruct me on the method by which to activate this device.”

Tony laughed at him. “Not on your life.”

The hologram tilted his head, and then waved a hand. The Iron Man suit disappeared and Wasp’s suit reappeared a moment later. He directed his uncomfortably green eyes at Jan. “Instruct me on the method by which to activate this device.”

“Sorry, Mr. Creepy Green Eyes,” Jan said with a polite smile, “not going to happen.”

Head tilted once more, the hologram waved again. Steve’s shield took the place of the Wasp suit. He turned to look at Steve, but before he could get one word out, Steve told him, “No. You need to release us immediately.”

As if he hadn’t even heard Steve speak, he waved his hand again and brought up the Iron Man armor. “Instruct me on the method by which to activate this device.”

Tony turned his back on the hologram. “So, this is not going to get us anywhere.” He crouched down by the door he’d tumbled through and tried to wedge his fingers into the paper-thin gap surrounding it. He made a frustrated noise. “I guess we know why we’re all naked. I don’t suppose anyone has a convenient bobby pin that our… host didn’t find?”

To Steve’s shock, Clint promptly produced a bobby pin from the waistband of his boxers and held it over Tony’s shoulder.

“Do I want to know where that’s been?” Tony asked.

Though Steve had seen him sliding it out of the fabric of his waistband, Clint still chirped, “Probably not.”

“Great,” Tony groused, but he took the pin and worked it into the narrow crevice. Steve stepped casually in front of Tony to block him from the hologram, though it didn’t seem to be responding to them in any way, and kept repeating the same command, cycling through Iron Man, the Wasp suit, and Steve’s shield. “Hey, buddy!” Tony called over his shoulder, “I don’t guess you know Lucas Williams?”

The cycle of “Instruct me on the method by which to activate this device” paused and the hologram quirked his head, as if confused by the question. After a long pause, the hologram shivered and was replaced with a hologram of an unassuming looking man with dirty blond hair and glasses. “How do you know my name?” he asked.

“Just a hunch.”

“You’re not going to be able to get through that,” Williams said conversationally. He walked over to kneel down next to Tony, walking right through Steve. His knee ended up half through the floor. “You managed to track my infiltration of your servers,” he guessed.

Tony made a vague noise of agreement and kept plugging away at the little door while Williams watched curiously.

“Even if you get that open, it only leads to the chamber where you awoke.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony said. “And that has to go somewhere, since you got me in there in the first place.”

Williams quirked his head. “You’re a fascinating specimen. Maybe I’ll keep you.”

Steve waved his hand through Williams’ head. “No, you will not,” he said, breaking into their very weird conversation. “You absolutely will not. Who the hell are you?”

“My name is Lucas Williams,” he answered slowly, like Steve was the one who was slow on the uptake. “I am a fan of Mr. Stark’s work. I was very pleased to find him in the Iron Man suit.” He turned back to Tony, who’d continued to chip away at the door. “Have you always been Iron Man?”

“Mmhm,” Tony hummed. He got the hairpin lodged in one side of the door and twisted. It popped open with a soft _hiss_ and Tony nudged it open with his shoulder. He clipped the pin to the thin waistband of his thong and crawled right into the opening.

“Fascinating,” Williams repeated, watching avidly as Tony crawled through cramped space.

“Alright, Williams,” Steve said, trying to step in front of him again, though he didn’t get the impression that he was breaking Williams’ line of sight at all. “What do you want from us?”

Williams stared unnerving right through Steve’s legs for several seconds before looking up at him. “I intend to study you,” he said simply. “You are all interesting specimens. A super solider, a woman who has survived shrinking and growing, and…” he tilted his head to look at Clint. “That one can go,” he decided.

“Oh, thanks,” Clint said. He ducked around Steve’s legs and shoved his shoulders and upper body into the opening. “Stark! What have you found up there?”

“So far just the coffin,” Tony called down, voice sounding muffled by close spaces. His breath was coming a little too quickly for Steve’s liking.

“Williams,” Steve said, trying to get the hologram’s attention again. “What is it going to take to get you to let us go?”

Williams twisted to look up at Steve. “Instruct me on accessing and working the Iron Man suit.”

“Never going to happen, Williams,” Tony shouted from above them. “And if that’s what you want, you can just let them go. They don’t know how to operate the suit. No one knows that but me.”

Clint backed out of the small crawl space. “Steve, neither of us is going to fit up there. Sliding down with our hands up above us, maybe, but no way we’d be able to make it up.” He tapped his biceps with one hand in illustration. He ignored the hologram of Williams altogether, walking directly through him. “Hopefully Tony and Jan can find another way to get us out of here.”

“There is no way,” Williams said, standing to join their conversation. He looked curiously in between them.

Clint gave him a disgusted look and turned pointedly to exclude him from the conversation. “Got any other ideas, Cap?”

Steve floundered. He wasn’t used to discussing escape plans right in front of a captor, but Williams not only wasn’t giving them a choice, he didn’t seem interested in trying to stop them. If anything, Steve got the distinct impression that they were playing into whatever plan Williams had in the first place. He was studying them, seeing how they reacted to captivity, how they responded to each other, and how they responded to him.

“Anything, Tony?” Steve called up the chute.

Tony didn’t respond, but a moment later he came sliding down through the door. He grimaced as Steve helped him back to his feet, pulling at the straps of his thong. “I never should have put this on,” he said under his breath.

Steve slid his gaze between the quietly interested Williams, and Tony. He cleared his throat. “Maybe I can convince you to put it on again. Later.”

Tony hiked an eyebrow at him, lips pulling into a smirk. “Maybe.”

“Hey, Tony?” Jan called from the other side of the room.

Steve looked up and found Williams watching her passively. Tony left his side, and even considering the situation they were in, Steve had to forcefully stop himself from patting Tony’s very exposed – and very lovely – ass as he went by. He noticed Jan kneeling down at the corner and tried to get Williams’ attention again.

“There’s no technology in the shield,” he said.

Williams turned to regard him. He tilted his head. “I have seen how you use the device,” he said, “It appears to defy the laws of physics. You will not convince me that there is no technology that allows you to do this.” He examined Steve more closely. “Perhaps it is you, and not the shield. Does the serum allow you to circumvent physics?” He stood up and got very close to Steve, staring at him unblinkingly, his expression creepily slack. For some reason Williams reminded Steve of his laptop when it was asked to do too much too quickly.

Even though he was a hologram and put out no body heat or scent, Steve still reared away from him. “No,” he said after an awkward pause where Williams rose up on his toes to get closer to Steve’s face. It almost seemed like he was trying to smell Steve’s lips.

“Are you su –”

The hologram disappeared abruptly, and then the walls, floor, and ceiling started to flicker. Steve twisted back to Tony and Jan. Tony had shoved the hair pin into the wall, and even as Steve watched, it started to flicker even harder. In the blink of an eye, the seamless cell dissolved, leaving them in a simple concrete room lined in a grid of wires, with a single door, and what looked like a two-way mirror.

Tony stood up. “Nice eyes, Jan.” He gestured to the corner where they’d been poking at the wall. “She caught a glitch in the matrix, and I was able to disrupt the circuit.”

Steve inclined his head to them as he crossed the room to the door. “Very good work.” He gave the door a solid tug, but it was very heavy duty, and locked. Even with his enhanced strength, it would take some serious effort to get it open. He braced one foot on the wall and tried again.

The doorknob twisted under Steve’s grip. Before he had the chance to let go, the door swung open, and he was thrown into the wall. He slid down with a huff and rolled unsteadily to his feet. Clint jumped at the door immediately, but was tossed back a second later.

“Hold, friends!” Thor said, striding through the door with Williams scruffed in front of him. “It is I.”

“I see that,” Steve said, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Williams was quiescent in Thor’s grip, staring at them in a kind of wide-eyed wonder. Steve strode forward to take Williams out of Thor’s grip and held him firmly by one arm. “Where did you put our clothing and gear?”

“They are here, Captain,” Thor explained, standing away from the door and gesturing through it. He seemed to notice Tony for the first time and tilted his head curiously. “Mr. Stark, you were captured as well.”

“Long story,” Tony said tiredly.

“He’s Iron Man,” Clint provided for him, jerking a thumb in Tony’s direction as he pushed past them to the door.

“I had thought as much,” Thor said sagely. “It is good to finally have you among us in truth.”

“ _You_ though as much?” Tony demanded.

Jan patted him lightly on one arm. “I knew,” she said consoling. She patted him again. “I’ve known you since we were seven, Tony. I’m a little insulted that you thought you could get that past me.”

Clint returned with his pants and shirt over his arm. He flung a bundle of clothing at Tony. “For the love of _God,_ Stark. Please. Clothing.”

“I don’t know,” Tony said testily, “I’m enjoying all the fresh air.”

“Many of my brethren in Asgard fight thusly,” Thor said, pounding Tony’s back hard enough to make him stumble forward.

That was apparently enough to send Tony after his clothing. He scooped up his pants and hopped back into them. Steve felt a flush of happy warmth when Tony shook out Steve’s army t-shirt and pulled it over his head. His eyes flickered over to Steve and then away, but a smile lingered in the corners of his lips. “Alright,” he said, taking hold of Williams’ other arm and giving him a firm yank. “We need to have a little chat about your holodeck here.”

Jan returned, once again in her suit and looking as impeccable as ever, and handed Steve his uniform. Steve thanked her and started sorting out the pieces. He looked up at Thor. “How did you find us? For that matter, where are we?”

“After you disappeared from the compound, I contacted Mr. Rhodes, who was able to provide your location. He said there was a ‘tracking signal’ in the armor.”

“Way to go Rhodey,” Tony cheered.

“That is not possible,” Williams insisted. He made a vague hand gesture and his face scrunched up in confusion. “I disabled any tracking when I transported you.”

“Obviously it is indeed possible, foul villain,” Thor replied cheerfully, “As here I stand.”

“I see,” Williams said. He examined them all for another long moment, and then said, “I will depart.”

Before Steve could tell him that he was absolutely not going anywhere except in Avengers’ custody, Williams crumpled in Tony’s grip, slumping to the floor like a marionette with his strings cut. Sparks shot up from his joints, and Tony jumped back from him as he caught fire. In seconds, he melted into a puddle of slagged plastics and sparking electronics.

“That’s disconcerting,” Tony said into the ensuing silence.

~*~

“He was an android of some kind. Possibly based on my own Life Model Decoys,” Tony concluded, and sat down gingerly. He had taken off the Iron Man armor, which stood silent sentinel in the corner, but he was still dressed in his jeans and Steve’s Army t-shirt, dog tags outlined faintly in the fabric. Steve thought about what he was wearing underneath his jeans and went a little hot under the collar. He wondered fleetingly if Tony always wore thongs in the armor, decided not to think about it, and directed his gaze across the table instead.

They were all tired, in want of showers, and ready for a few hours away from each other. Rhodey had sent them the tracking data, which had lead Thor to a basement in Kansas, of all places, and Abe Zimmer had sent Tony an email explaining that “Simple, Inc” had disappeared off the face of the planet as if it had never existed. Steve watched the team as they grew progressively less engaged, and finally decided to call the debrief a wrap. They could return to picking at the problem of their strange mechanical kidnapper later.

“I don’t think there’s anything else we’re going to figure out at the moment. I’m going to call it for this evening,” Steve said when nothing else was forthcoming. Several relieved sighs bounced around the room, and Clint was out of his chair almost before Steve finished saying the words. Jan stretched and met Thor at the door, where she laced an arm through his and declared that she was going to make him the best peanut butter, Pop Tart, and Jelly sandwich he’d ever had as a thank you for the rescue.

“After today, I thought I couldn’t be surprised. Pop Tarts on a sandwich does it,” Tony said. He slumped back into his swiveling chair, twisting idly, and looked like he might just take a nap right there.

Steve stood from his own chair and moved into Thor’s. Tony looked small in the chair that had been designed and reinforced to hold Iron Man’s weight. He gave Steve a careful look through slitted lids, and Steve wondered if he might not fall asleep just to avoid the conversation they needed to have.

“Do you want me off the team?” Tony asked quietly, surprising Steve by speaking first when it looked like he wanted to be absolutely anywhere else.

Steve frowned. “Of course not. You’re Iron Man.”

Tony nodded faintly. He let out a slow breath. “Okay.” He shifted anxiously in the chair, blew out another breath and said, “You could have Iron Man without Tony Stark, you know. Rhodey has taken over the suit for me before. He could take it on permanently.” It sounded like it hurt to say it.

Steve grabbed the arms of Tony’s chair and tugged it around so they were facing each other. “Rhodey isn’t Iron Man. You are.” He laughed. “And maybe I should have figured it out. If Thor ‘thought as much,’ I should have at least been suspicious. You’re my best friend. I’m… honestly, I’m upset that I never realized.”

Tony blinked, head jerking backwards and then cocking to the side. “I went to great lengths for you to not figure it out. Trust me,” he added with a twisted smile, “ _great_ lengths.”

“Why did you?” Steve asked, more curious than upset. “Why didn’t you just tell us?” _Me_ , he meant.

Rolling his head back along the padded rest, Tony sighed. “People around me get hurt. Tony Stark has enemies and Iron Man has enemies, and just about all of them have proven that they’re willing to hurt people I care about to get to me. Just Iron Man has more enemies, and he’s more visible. I didn’t want to expose you and the team to more risk than necessary just by associating with me. If they don’t know who the people I care about are, they can’t use them against me. And,” he added with an air of admission, “the closer we became as friends, and the longer the lie went, the harder it was to tell you.”

“I understand.” Steve braced his elbows on his knees and stared down at his hands. He darted a glance at Tony’s tired face. “I know I’m one to talk, but that’s not really a way to live life. It sounds lonely.”

The laughter was unexpected, and it seemed to surprise Tony as much as Steve. He got control of it quickly and simmered down to just a sardonic smile, his eyes moving back and forth between Steve’s without ever making contact. “Yeah. Lonely. That’s a word for it. I shouldn’t have ever invited you to the gala, Steve. I knew better. And I shouldn’t have had that conversation with you on the balcony, or walked through the park with you, or any of it.” He seemed to sink further into the chair. “I definitely shouldn’t have ever touched you without making sure you knew exactly who I was, and I’m sorry for that.”

Steve’s heart gave an unsteady thump against his breastbone. He thought about the scars scattered across Tony’s chest and back, the way Steve’s thumbs fit perfectly into the hollows of his hip bones, and late night games of chess with Iron Man. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, surprised at how unsteady the question came out.

Tony watched him carefully. “Steve… I’ve been lying to you for almost a decade,” he pointed out slowly. “I thought that would be the end of… everything.”

“It is,” Steve pointed out. He clocked the instant hurt on Tony’s face, the way his shoulders slumped and the color drained out of his lips, his unsteady exhale. He caught Tony’s arm before he could turn away. “It’s the end of not trusting each other, I hope,” he explained. “Tony, you’re my best friend. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could just see your face. And… when I said I’ve had a little crush on Iron Man for a while, I meant it.” His face heated and he cut a glance at the Iron Man armor, feeling uncomfortable with the suit standing by, even knowing that it was empty. He turned back to Tony with a smile. “And I’ve had a crush on Tony Stark almost as long. Works out nicely for me that you’re the same person.”

Tony reached over and sharply pinched the inside of his arm. “Ow,” he said vaguely, and then finally met Steve’s eyes. “How are you this amazing? I’m not even sure you’re real right now.”

Steve leaned forward in his chair and kissed Tony’s hand. When Tony didn’t pull away from, he turned their hands over and kissed Tony’s palm, and then his wrist. He looked up, and Tony immediately cupped his chin and brought their lips together.

“Real enough for you?” Steve asked softly when they pulled apart.

Tony hummed. “For now.”

Smiling, Steve tugged Tony’s chair a little closer and reached out to lay a hand over his dog tags where they rested over Tony’s chest. “I’d be happy to show you in more detail. If you like.” He tried for seductive, but judging by Tony’s chuckle, he landed somewhere south of the mark.

“Oh,” Tony assured him with a wicked smile, “I would very, _very_ much like. In the interests of science, of course.”

The world suddenly seemed to right itself when he hadn’t even realized it had been of kilter. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts!
> 
> I may write a short sequel/coda to this in the future to wrap up some loose ends I feel I ran out of time to address this time around, and will post it here if I do so. :)
> 
> Come visit me on Tumblr: http://lightshadowverisimilitude.tumblr.com/
> 
> I make it a point to respond to all of my comments (even if just to say 'thank you') - though I can't promise speed. If you don't want/need a response, feel free to include NRN (No response needed) in your comment.


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